On London's Stage
by faeriesnook
Summary: AU: Getting lost while on a tour of London was not something that Alfred had planned. Neither was stumbling into a theater and coming across an paint-splattered Brit reciting Hamlet.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** On London's Stage

**Author:** Faeriesnook**  
Rating:** PG

**Summary:** AU: Getting lost while on a tour of London was not something that Alfred had planned. Neither was stumbling into a theatre and coming across an paint-splattered Brit reciting _Hamlet_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. I also do not own _Hamlet_.

-  
Alfred F. Jones was completely, and utterly, lost. There was no two ways about it. He had lost his tour group, and while he had theorized that if he kept going in one direction he would soon reunite with them. But, that plan had soon flunked. And he was sure he was even more lost than he had been before. Great. Just great. The others were going to laugh at him when they met back up. If they had even noticed…

Actually, knowing Gilbert and Francis, they had been too busy flirting with the other females on their tour to notice the boisterous American was missing.

But maybe Mattie had noticed?

No… He was probably too busy trying not to get killed by Ivan while he held the Russian's older sisters hand.

Yup, none of them had noticed.

"Maybe I should just stop and ask for directions," he mumbled looking around. He hated being lost. He was a New Yorker; being lost was just something he did not do!

But he wasn't in New York… Or even America at the moment. He was in London, England. A completely different country!

And it was raining again.

What was with this country and rain!?

Alfred ran towards the first building, opening the door and slipping inside just as the downpour gained full swing. With a small huff he removed his glasses, drying them on his t-shirt, before looking around. Oh… A theatre, he'd run right into a theatre. Well, at least it didn't look like he was interrupting a performance. In fact the entire place was deserted… Which to say the least was a bit frightening…

But he would ignore that. Taking a seat, he fished his cell phone out of his jackets pocket. A sigh of relief escaping him when he saw he did indeed still have service, and quickly sending a text message to his twin.

_Mattie, where r u guys? _

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he glanced around the theatre. It really was magnificent. And massive. Did he mention it was completely deserted?

_"To be, or not to be – that is the question,"_ Alfred nearly screamed as a sudden, soft voice echoed across the theatre. A ghost! A ghost was here! His breathing picked up, Alfred clasping a hand in front of his mouth to keep his scream at bay. If the ghost didn't hear him then maybe… _"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."_

But wait… That… That wasn't a ghost.

Alfred's eyes widened as he watched a young man, maybe a few years older than himself, stepping onto the stage from one of the wings. His unruly, sandy blond hair hung in his face, eyes shut as he walked across the stage with surprising ease. A box, full of fabrics and props and brushes in his arm, paint smeared across his clothing. He was the owner of that voice.

The American debated leaving very quietly. But as the blond continued on Alfred felt himself suddenly rooted to the spot, blue eyes following the others movement in a quiet awe.

_"Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?"_ The blond set down his box, stretching. Alfred sat down in one of the plush theatre seats. The other did not notice him, even when he gazed across the seats, a solemn look in his eyes. _"To die, to sleep, no more… And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks. That flesh is heir to."_

Brilliant green eyes slipped shut as he spoke, the blond removing the pair of glasses that had been perched on his nose, balancing them on top of his head. And the raw emotion in his voice… Alfred felt a shudder run down his spine. Unable to look away._"'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd."_

His voice remained so soft, and yet it continued on. His voice reaching even Alfred in the back of the theatre. Passion dripping from every word, drawing Alfred deeper and deeper into the spell the paint splattered teen had unintentionally casted. _"To die, to sleep."_ He sounded so desperate, brilliant green orbs opening, half lidded as they gazed ahead. _"To sleep… Perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come_ _when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life."_

A soft sigh escaped the man's lips. Those brilliant green eyes were open again, scanning across empty seats. _"For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud ma-"_

_"Don't stop! Believing!" _The spell was broken, both blonds jumping. Alfred fumbled, opening his phone, picking the 'view later' option before glancing back up. The man on stage had noticed him, those green eyes narrowed, his glasses once again perched on his nose. There was a flush on his cheeks, his entire body rigid (opposed to how relax it had been while he had been speaking).

"Who the bloody Hell are you!?" He shouted, and Alfred couldn't help but rub the back of his neck.

"Uh… Alfred F. Jones…" A small groan escaped the other, and he was sure he heard something about an 'American' and 'idiotic'. Alfred stood slowly, clearing his throat in an almost awkward manner. "I um… Well it started raining…"

"So you entered the theatre, which is closed by the way. There was a sign that said so. Meaning you are trespassing, Mr. Jones. I should call the police and have you-"

"I-It was unlocked!"That caused the other to pause, and a scowl deepened across his face.

"That goddamn Scot… I told him to lock the door when he left…" Grumbling a few more curses, Alfred watched him turn on his heels, squatting down by the box he had carried out. "Well, you aren't allowed in here."

"But it's pouring out!"

"Not my problem." Came the curt answer. Alfred felt his jaw drop. The other didn't seem to notice, continuing to sort through the box. After a minute or so passed, those sharp green eyes turned on him. "Why are you still here?"

"It's uh… Raining?" The British boy on stage snorted. Alfred scowled. "Oi, I'm sorry I don't like rain! I'll just stay here unti-"

"Can't be helped. Alfred right? Come over here and give me a hand."

"Wait… What?"

"If you're going to just stand there, you might as well give me a hand," he responded with a scowl. "It won't be anything difficult. Now come on."

Slowly, he walked down the aisle, climbing up the stairs to the side and onto the stage. Rubbing his arm nervously, he approached where the other blond was sitting. "I um, don't know much about theatre… Uh…"

"Arthur Kirkland. And that's fine. Sit down." Alfred did as he was told, and without any warning a prop (a bowl) was shoved into his hand followed by a paint brush. "See this? It's glaze. Just paint it over the bowl and then put it on the tarp."

"U-Uh right…" He shifted moving the can of glaze closer before dipping his brush into it. He glanced at the other, curiously. Arthur had pulled out a dress, sewing something to it. Not that Alfred could tell. He glanced back at his work, shifting every so often. They sat in a tense silence, the American not sure what to say. After a moment, Arthur was the one who broke it (much to Alfred's release).

"So what are you doing in this part of town anyway? Exploring?"

"Ah! I was with a tour group, with some kids from my school but… Well I got lost…" He caught a paint dribble with his paint brush. "We're here in London for a month. We've been here a week already, but all we've done are stupid tours! It's so boring man! I mean, at first it was cool but, gah! All we do is walk around, and then I'm too tired to go out with everyone else for exploring and, it _sucks_!"

Arthur snorted, glancing up from his needlework, before back. "That's too bad. London is a remarkable city."

"I know. Believe me. I really wish I could just explore… But I mean, we're on some stupid time schedule this German guy made for us. And he's kinda scary when he's angry…" A realization dawned Alfred. "Shit! I'm gonna die when he finds me!"

Arthur actually laughed at this, and Alfred felt himself overcome with an unexpected warmth. The Brit glanced up from his work discreetly, green eyes meeting blue.

Nothing was said, and Alfred could feel his face heat more and more. A shock coursing through his veins. Arthur was really… He was really rather attractive…

"Perhaps… I could show you around some time?" Alfred blinked, confused by the sudden proposition. Arthur looked away pointedly, and he could see the red tinting his cheeks. "Just… You should be able to explore. And while I'm sure the things you are seeing on these tours are important aspects of London… It isn't the city in its entirety… And just… It would be a shame…"

"That'd be really awesome!"

The tension between the two seemed to vanish, both talking much more comfortably. They conversed on a multitude of different subjects, along with debating their opinions on certain matters. There were times when the tension would return, Arthur scowling, glaring at the fabric in his lap while Alfred would all but pout, looking out at the theatre. It was during one of these moments, when the American spoke up.

"So… What were you doin', standing on the stage and saying those things for..?" He saw Arthur flush from the corner of his eye.

"They were lines from _Hamlet_, first of all. By Shakespeare, I'm sure you know the name. Or has the American educational system really gone that far down the drain?" Alfred was sure he should be offended by that, but the Brit carried on before he could comment. "My acting troop is putting on a production of _Hamlet_. Opening nights this weekend. I just came in for the day to finish up some costumes and set pieces before the actors came in for a final run through."

"Oh, so you're like, the lead right? Hamlet?" Arthur scoffed at that, making the taller of the two blink in confusion. "But you knew the lines right…?"

"Of course, _Hamlet_ happens to be one of my favorite works of his. But I'm hardly the lead. I'm not even one of the actors." He rolled those brilliant eyes, idly gesturing to his paint smattered clothing. "I'm one of the stage managers. I've been helping build and paint the set, along with fixing up and making some of the costumes."

"But you were really…" Alfred trailed off, seeing the uncomfortable look that was crossing his new friends face. Opting to close his mouth instead, he glanced off to the side before rising to his feet.

"W-Where are you going!?"

"I wanna look at the set."

"No!" Arthur had shot to his feet, grabbing Alfred's arm in a vice-like grip.

"Sheesh! It's not the end of the world if I take a peek."

"If you want to see it so badly come see the show with me!"

A stillness echoed through the theatre. Alfred stared at him, mouth hanging open. Arthur seemed to realize what he said, sputtering and trying to back track. It only took a few seconds for Alfred to register the meaning of the others words. A warmth spread through him, his face heating up, but a large grin forming.

"Arthur Kirkland, are you asking me, a person you just a met a few hours ago, on a _date_?"

"I-I would never!" The flushed Brit snapped, letting go of Alfred's arm and spinning around. "I had merely thought that perhaps you would enjoy to see a proper production of _Hamlet_! I'm not asking- Honestly! All of you American's think the world revolves around you! Like I would ever want to ask-"

"I'd love too." That cut Arthur rant off, he looked over his shoulder, that flush remaining.

"You… Would?" Alfred nodded, and he saw a smile form across the others face. Before he turned around again to hide it. "Well th-"

_"Don't stop! Believing!"_ Both jumped a good food, Alfred fumbling and pulling his forgotten cell phone from his pocket, opening it quickly.

_Al, where are you!? Are you okay!?_

He smiled sheepishly at his phone, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should uh, get going… My groups getting worried I think."

"Ah, right… Um, if you would like… I could help you find them…"

"What about your work?" He gestured to the pile of fabric. Arthur glanced at it before giving a small shrug.

"It will be there when I get back…"

Alfred grinned, nodding a little bit. They left the theatre together, prattling on about non-important matters. Arthur spouting out random tidbits as they walked to where Alfred's group was (after he had texted Matthew back and found out). Really, Alfred couldn't help but be reminded of those tours that he had spent the last week on…

But then he glanced at the Brit, and that warmth returned.

This was better than any tour.

-

**This was for Day 2 of the USUK communities Sweethearts Week~ Which has now spawned into a chapter fic. Because I enjoy the premise of this too much. Plus, as a former techi myself, the idea of getting to write Arthur as one will be incredibly enjoyable!**

**Stay tuned for more~ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** On London's Stage

**Author:** Faeriesnook**  
Rating:** PG

**Summary:** AU: Getting lost while on a tour of London was not something that Alfred had planned. Neither was stumbling into a theatre and coming across a paint-splattered Brit reciting _Hamlet_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. I also do not own _Hamlet._

-

It had become a routine now. Alfred would sneak away from the group, after pleading with his brother to cover for him. Matthew agreed, albeit reluctantly. After ducking out of the group, he would double back, retracing his steps from that rainy day to the theatre that he'd become quite accustomed too. And like always, Arthur would be on the stage, sewing bits of costume, working on a prop, or a set piece.

Sometimes, if he was quiet enough, he could sneak in without Arthur noticing. And it was on these occasions he would be able to sit in the theatre, watching the always paint-splattered Brit recite lines from _Hamlet_.

He had also learnt to keep his cell on silent until he opted to let the Brit know he was there.

Arthur was an incredibly good actor, Alfred had decided after listening to him talk about some guy named Yorick on his third day of visiting. The American couldn't understand just why his new friend would get so bashful when Alfred would praise him. It was really adorable sometimes. At least until Arthur would hit him, and yell at him to get back to whatever task he had given the blue-eyed blond to do. To which Alfred would reply with a snicker, but he would always get back to work.

Today was just like any one of those other days. With the exception that Alfred didn't need to sneak out of his group, due to the fact that for some unknown reason, they actually were free to wander the city as long as they stayed in pairs. Gilbert and Francis had tried to convince him to accompany him, but he had turned them down. There response was to maturely tease him about his 'hot date' and inform him that he better 'wear protection', to which he replied with equal maturity. By flipping them off.

However, when he reached the theatre, things were incredibly different.

"Who are you?" It was a young girl, a year or so younger than him at least, standing in the center of the stage. She continued to stare at him, her blue ribbon bouncing in her short blonde hair as she tilted it to one side. "I'm sorry… But the theatre's closed today for rehearsals…"

"Oh, yeah, you guys are puttin' on your show at the end of the month, right?" She nodded, and the American rubbed the back of his neck. "I've um, been comin' in the passed few days and giving Arthur a hand…"

The girl blinked, before her eyes seemed to light up. "Oh! You're Alfred!"

"Uh… Yeah." Had Arthur mentioned him? That would've seemed out of character for the ever grumpy Brit…

"I'm Lily; I'm one of the actors." She smiled, beckoning him to come closer. And Alfred couldn't help but return her tiny smile with a grin. "My big brother is in charge of lighting, so I came in early with him."

Alfred nodded, walking up the steps at the side of the stage. The younger girl continued smiling. "Arthur said you helped paint some of the set?"

"Ah, yeah… But then he yelled at me and said it looked horrible…" He pouted at the memory, and Lily giggled behind her hand.

"Oh that sounds just like him." She twirled slightly, her pink dress flaring out around her. "That's Arthur's way of saying good job!"

"Really?" To this she nodded. And Alfred felt his grin grow wider and wider. His need to find the Brit, and shove that in his face growing. Though, that also brought about the curiosity of where he was…

As if reading his mind, Lily spoke up, bending down to scoop up a script. "Feliciano was having some problems sewing a piece onto one of the costumes."

She gave a soft sigh, paging through the script as she sat down. "Poor Arthur… He does everything…"

"Well… He's one of the stage managers isn't he?"

"He's really the only stage manager…" Lily shifted, looking up from her script. She was shifting uneasily, looking at him. And Alfred could tell immediately that she wasn't sure she should say anymore.

So instead Alfred opted to sit beside her. "What part do you play?"

"Huh? Oh! Um, Ophelia…" She blushed slightly, idly tucking hair behind her ear. "I-I'm not very good though… I don't know why Mr. Vargas casted me…"

"Mr. Vargas?"

"He's the manager of our acting troop."

"Grandpa casted you because you're really good!" An energetic voice echoed throughout the theatre, Alfred turned his head as a bouncing brunet exited from one of the sides. He was smiling at them, one strange curl bobbing as he walked. Lily shifted shyly at his compliment, fingering the pages of her script.

"Feliciano… I-I'm really not…"

"Ve~ You are you are!" The brunet stopped in front of them, planting one hand on his hip, while bending over to poke Lily's forehead. "You just get too nervous! Didn't Grandpa say you were one of the best actresses we have?"

Lily didn't answer, dropping her gaze to her lap. Alfred felt as though he were intruding, scooting away slightly. Neither seemed to notice.

"Bu-But I always fumble with my lines! And ope-" Feliciano, an Italian Alfred gathered from his accent, just placed a finger to her lips smiling an almost dopey smile.

"Worrying won't get you anywhere. Grandpa only casts the best performers for the leads in our troop. And you are one of the best!"

"For once I agree with the idiot." Ah, there was that familiar British voice. Arthur was exiting from the same wing Feliciano had, propping his glasses on top of his head with a frown. "I'll help you go over your lines later if you want."

"Ah! Th-That would be great. If you have time…"

"I can make some time," Arthur responded when he reached her, reaching out to give her hair a playful ruffle. And Alfred could just see the small smile tugging at the corners of his frown. Green eyes shifted, landing on where Alfred had been sitting. A small exasperated sigh quickly following it. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I'm here to do what I've been doing everyday? Let you boss me around and help out."  
Arthur was silent for a minute, before turning around and heading back to where he had come from. "I don't have time for you're antics today. Go back and bother your friends."

"Wh-What? Hey! That's not fair! You could've texted me if you were gonna be busy!" Alfred was on his feet in an instant, eyes wide. He was sure one of Arthur's enormous eyebrows twitched.

"I'm a bit busy to 'text you', you insufferable git!" The Brit snapped, and Alfred found himself raising his hands in defense, blue eyes wide from the unpredicted attack. "Honestly! It's just like you goddamn Americans to come waltzing in, assuming that everyone else can just drop what they're doing to spend time with you! If you hadn't noticed, I have a job that I've been _trying_ to finish. Only to have it derailed everyday by a bumbling imbecile!"

"H-Hey if you jus-"

"You can't just take_ hints_ can you!? Just get-"

"Ah! _Fratello_," Arthur went stock still, Feliciano coming up to his side and patting his back. "Don't be mean. You said Alf-"

"Do-Don't touch me! You idiot!" Arthur had slapped the hand away, taking a step or two back. The Italian wilted, holding his hand.

"_Fratello_…"

"Don't call me that!"

"But-"

"I said-"

"What the fuck's with the shouting!?" Turning his head, Alfred watched another man join them. He looked remarkably similar to Feliciano, though with darker brown hair, and a strange curl on the opposite side. The newcomer paused, glancing around the scene in front of him, his scowl darkening. "Oi! Arthur, what the Hell did you do?"

"I didn't-" But Feliciano had cut him off, rattling off in what he figured was Italian, and Arthur's face was turning redder and redder with each word. And before Alfred realized it, Arthur too had busted out, shouting in Italian and leaving the American quite bewildered.

Lily was quick to step in. Calm and collected, acting as this was a daily occurrence. "Arthur, it's your turn to get lunch."

The shouting match (now between Arthur and the darker haired brunet) came to a halt. And Feliciano, who had been hiding teary eyed behind the other Italian, brightened. "Pasta!"

"No way, we had pasta last time!"

"Bu-But!"

"Go get pizza or something."

"Bu-But Lovi-"

"Shut up! Dumbass, don't you have to finish a costume!?"

"But I-I…"

"Get some Chinese! It's cheaper!" Alfred's head shot up, and he stared at the blond man who was perched on one of the cat walks above them. Blond hair cut in a similar style to Lily's, and a… A gun!? Point at him!?

"Vash! What did I say bout paint ball guns in the theatre!?" Arthur snapped, suddenly in front of Alfred, arms crossed over his chest. The blond, identified as Vash, snorted.

"Yeah, and didn't we have a talk about strangers in the theatre while we were working? Especially when they're near my sister?"

"Brother!" Lily had raced forward, almost looking exasperated. "He isn't a stranger. This is Alfred!"

Vash stared down at him, observing the American continuing to keep the gun aimed. "… Oh, you're Arthur's friend?"

"Yes! So please stop pointing you're goddamn paintball gun at him!" Arthur snapped, and Alfred turned his gaze to stare at him, wondering if he realized the slip. The Brit didn't pause though, running his hands down his face. "Honestly… Didn't the old man take that from you?"

"Had another," Vash responded, but Alfred was glad to see he had holstered the gun. The Brit in front of him released another groan, before shifting, pulling a notepad out of his pocket and a pencil from behind his ear.

"Fine, fine. What kind of Chinese food-"

"But pasta!"

"Oi! I want pizza!"

"-do you want Vash?" Arthur carried on, not listening to the Italian's outburst.

"Whatever's cheapest. We're on a budget."

"Ah! You liked the lo mein last time we ordered!" Lily piped in, glancing at the rafters before at Arthur. "W-We can share it! That was we save some money. Plus if you get the bigger size…"

Arthur nodded. "That alright by you Vash?"

A grunt was his response. Arthur just nodded, writing the order down on paper. Alfred watched quietly, the sandy blond glancing at where Vash had gotten back to work, before to Lily, whispering softly to her with the tiniest of smiles. "I'll get you some white rice too Lily. My treat. We'll tell Vash it came with the lo mein."

"Thank you Arthur!" Her eyes lit up, and Alfred had to nod to himself. Ah, this girl, she was so adorable in that little sister manner.

"Bu-But…" Feliciano was sniffing, looking absolutely pathetic.

"And I'll get you some pasta, and you some pizza Lovino," the Brit responded, cutting the older Italian off before he could say a world. Jotting them down on the pad, green eyes glanced over to Alfred. "And I suppose you'd like a burger or some other horrible greasy food."

"H-Huh?"

"To eat. We'll have to feed you if you're going to be helping."

Alfred snorted, planting his hands on his hips. "Weren't you the one who just told me to get lost?"

Arthur just released a short, irritated breath of air, holding the pad out to Feliciano. "Go find out what Kiku and the others want."

The air-headed brunet nodded, skipping off. Lily giggled, ignoring the annoyed look that she got from the Brit. Lovino snorted as well, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Damn, I forget how fucking pissy you get before the show."

"You'd be 'pissy' too if you had a lot of work left to do!" He snapped, and Alfred thought he would punch the Italian across the face. Lily was quick though, stepping between them. She seemed use to it.

"Lovino, how're the dresses coming?"

"Slowly," the Italian snorted, and it was only then that he took notice of the tomato red cast that wrapped around the darker brunet's right forearm. "I can't do all the details, but they'll get done."

"Thanks to me and Elizaveta," Arthur responded, still scowling.

"I can't help it my brother sucks at detailing." Lovino responded hotly, giving an indignant sniff as he looked off to the side. "'Sides, you offered!"

"Yes because I was just going t-"

"I'm back~" Feliciano skipped towards them, holding the pad out to Arthur, inadvertently halting an upcoming fight. With a small sigh, Arthur took the offered pad of paper, turning his head to look at Alfred. The American in question opted to stand off to one side awkwardly throughout the exchanges.

"You can help, come on." Alfred didn't get a choice in the matter really. Arthur had grabbed hold of his wrist the moment he was done speaking, storming out of the theatre, only pausing to grab a hunter green knapsack with a unicorn keychain off one of the seats.

-

"Y'know I'm not a pack mule."

"You know I really don't give two shits." Alfred scowled as he followed Arthur down the streets, carrying the majority of the bags in his arms. The Brit was two steps ahead, carrying the pizza for Lovino in his hands. They lulled into a silence, a tense one. Alfred shifted his hold on the bags, glancing around the streets.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?"

"Of course I am!" The other snapped, glancing over his shoulder with a scowl. "This is my city after all, git."

"That's an insult right?"

"Yes."

"What's it mean?"

"You figure it out, wanker," came the snort. Alfred almost pouted. Stupid British slang.

"So… We got everything right?"

"I think so…" Arthur shifted, balancing the pizza box in one hand while he fished the pad out of his back pocket. "Pizza for Lovino, pasta for the old man and Feliciano, curry for Yong Soo and myself, Chinese for Vash, Lily, Yao and Kiku."

"I thought the list said Yao wanted curry?"

"It did." Arthur had a smirk on his lips, and Alfred stared.

"You…" The stage-manager glanced back, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Yes?"

"… You sneaky bastard." Alfred laughed the tension lifting as he picked up his pace to walk side-by-side with Arthur. "The guys not gonna be happy."

"I know. But his reactions are hilarious," Arthur was laughing too, that smirk stretching. "You have to see it." Their eyes met, and Alfred felt an odd warmth spread throughout his chest. And was it just him but was Arthur blushing?

"A-Ah right! Right!" Clearing his throat, the Brit returned his eyes to the pad. "Chinese for Vash, Lily, Yao and Kiku. Disgusting McDonalds for you. And haggis for the damn Scott. That's everyone there right now."

"They the rest of your crew?"

There was a nod, the pad slipping back into Arthur's pocket. "With the exception of Lily. But she always comes in to help when she can. She's a sweet girl. Terrifying Ophelia though…"

"So where are the other actors?"

"They won't be in until around four."

"Oh, and then run throughs?"

"Along with costume fittings and adjustments." Arthur sighed, blowing long bangs out of his eyes. "Costumes are going to be difficult… What with Lovino's broken hand. But luckily our troops good at banning together in times of need."

"… You guys… You're troop I mean… You aren't all from England are you?" Arthur paused at a red light, idly watching the cars drive by.

"No. Vash and Lily are from Switzerland. They moved here when their Father got transferred to the local bank." A small snort escaped the Brit. "Vash actually had no interest in joining our troop. It was Lily who really wanted to join. And then, when our old lighting technician stormed out before a performance, Vash jumped in to help. And well… The old man managed to get him to stay onboard."

Alfred nodded, smiling as he listened to the Brit talk. Any annoyance Arthur had had at him seemed to vanish, and it was like the day they had met, the stage manager chattering away as they walked. "Then Kiku, he's a friend of mine from school. He loves art, so he requested to join us. And then, his two friends Yong Soo and unfortunately Yao joined."

"You don't like Yao?"

"The bloody wanker's still angry at me because I may or may not have lost his brother for a few hours when he asked me to watch him!" Arthur fumed, and Alfred snorted.

"How could you 'may or may not have' lose someone?" There was no answer. Alfred just laughed louder, until an elbow met with his stomach. "O-Ow! Hey, do you want me to drop all the food!?"

"Anyways, those three are here studying, and just enjoyed the troop so they stay during the summer. And then Lovino and Feliciano are the old man's grandsons. So they just tagged along when he came to London."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… How'd you get to join the troop?" Arthur just looked at him, blinking slightly. He shrugged, turning the corner as they reached the theatre.

"I tagged along too."

"You…" Alfred blinked, quickening his pace to catch up, having stopped earlier. "Wh-What do you mean?"

"Just how it sounds."

"But I thought… Aren't you from England?"

"Yes."

"But then…"

"Are you done asking pointless questions?" The bite was back in his voice, Arthur scowling at him from over his shoulder. Alfred chewed his lower lip, but nodded.

The rest of the walk was quiet, and soon they had reached the theatre. Arthur held the door open, Alfred entering as quietly as he could. There were other people on the stage now. Three men, all with dark hair. One of them, with oversized sleeves, was flailing around the stage, an irate looking Vash chasing after him. The other two were sitting on the stage, one with a ponytail shaking his head at the scene, while the one with short hair seemed to be sketching. Alfred blinked, turning his head to speak with the Brit, but Arthur was already storming down the aisles, his eye twitching. "Oi! What the bloody hell do you think you guys are doing!?"

"Yong Soo was just an idiot as usual, aru." The one with the ponytail responded, sticking his leg out and tripping the one with the floppy sleeves. The young man flailed his arms out to the side, before falling face first on the stage floor. Alfred cringed seeing the event occur, cautiously walking down the aisle towards them. Vash had stopped running, his paint ball gun poised and aimed at the fallen boy.

"Br-Brother! It was an accident!" Lily was by the lighting technician's side, her arms wrapped around his, attempting to pull him away. Vash didn't budge, glaring down at the man. Arthur snorted, setting the pizza box down.

"If you're going to shoot him, do it outside where it won't get on the stage. Or would you like to be fined?" Vash glanced at the Brit, before nodding. And just like that, Alfred watched as the blond man dragged Yong Soo away by the back of his shirt, Lily following in a small panic. The America was about to voice his concern, tempted to take a step after him, but a shout caught his attention.

Well… More like a string of angry sounding Chinese…

"A-Ah! Yao please!" The man with short black hair had dropped his sketchbook, standing between a livid looking Yao and a well… Incredibly smug looking Arthur.

"I thought you wanted Chinese, my mistake."

There were more shouted curses in Chinese, or at least Alfred assumed they were curses. The American wasn't sure what to do. Hesitantly he looked around, wondering whether he should help the other man in breaking it up. But before he could even do it, Feliciano had reappeared, eyes lighting up as he helped take the food from the Alfred's arms. "Lunch break!!"

"Uh shouldn't we…?"

"That's normal," Lovino had appeared, picking up the box of pizza. Not even batting an eye at the scene in front of him. "They'll calm down in a couple of minutes."

"If you're sure…" Alfred wasn't very sure himself. But he followed the Italian's lead, setting the rest of the food in his arms down and breaking into his bag of McDonald's. The fight didn't seem to be any closer to letting up. At least until Vash returned, a paint splattered Yong Soo and a rapidly apologizing Lily in tow.

"Oi, don't make me get the boss!" Vash snapped when he saw the scene (Yao having forcibly shoved the other aside to grab Arthur by the front of his t-shirt, and the Brit shoving his hand in the Chinese man's face). They stared at one another for a brief moment, before pushing apart. Alfred couldn't help but sigh in relief, watching Arthur hand out the food, before taking a seat next to the American. Alfred shifted, nudging the Brit in the side.

"I thought you said his reactions were priceless…"

"Eh, he was in a bit of an angrier mood today." Was the Stage Managers response, followed by a shrug. Alfred rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile. "Oi, where's that stupid Scot!?"

"He and Grandpa went off to get something," Feliciano chirped, Lovino rolling his eyes and shoving a napkin at his younger brother.

"You have sauce all over your face idiot."

"Ah! Thank you!" The older Italian just went about eating. Alfred couldn't help but watch the exchange, before glancing around the assortment of the troop members. Yong Soo seemed to have recovered, chatting away with a still seething Yao (as he had been introduced), while the other dark haired man (Kiku) chimed in occasionally. But he seemed far too engrossed with his sketch to pay them much mind, even his food had been put off to the side. Vash was grumbling into his meal, something about prices and stuff, while Lily continuously assured him that everything was fine. Meanwhile, Feliciano chattered aimlessly, while his brother ignored him. And Arthur…

Arthur was staring off into the theatre seats, his eyes full of an emotion that Alfred couldn't quite place, one that made his heart clench with anticipation. Alfred remained silent, until finally, the Brit turned to face him, a wry smile on his lips those dazzling green eyes twinkling.

"We make quite the group, don't we, Mr. Jones?" He chided, nodding his head to his oblivious troop mates. "All foreigners all brought together through a common interest. A common love for performing, for building a reality out of fantasy. A world for people to escape too."

Alfred wasn't sure what to say, allowing the soft words to wash over him. Arthur was giving him one of those rare smiles, his gaze slowly turning back to the theatre seats. "We are weavers of tales you couldn't even imagine. Breathing life to fictional settings and characters. That is the magic of this place. Of what we do…"

Lovino and Vash were arguing about something. Yong Soo had leapt onto the distracted Kiku. But Alfred hardly noticed the chaos in the background. His eyes were too mesmerized by the paint splattered stage manager besides him. "We're quite the group, aren't we? Misfits that found a place to thrive amongst one another."

And just like that, the Brit returned to his meal. As if the almost poetic words he had just spewed were a mere illusion. Alfred suddenly found he wasn't very hungry, his burger sitting forgotten in the bag. Quietly he looked around the chaotic group around him. And Arthur's words rang true in his mind.

And suddenly he felt like an outsider amongst these misfits…

-

**A huge thanks goes out to loveanime18 for putting up with me so much while I was working this chapter out. From telling me where to end it, to telling me where was awkward, to just listening to me rant. 3 I owe you a lot buddy!!!**

**Right-o. After the lovely comments the intended one-shot received… I opted to continue it. So far the entire thing is planned out~ I hope you all will enjoy it!!**

**HOWEVER, there is a major edit. As I had not originally intended to continue the story. So something was significantly changed. And that would be, instead of opening night being at the end of the week (as Arthur stated in the first chapter) it is now at the end of the month.**

**Uuuh, I had so much more to say. But I can't remember. So I hope you all enjoy the continuation of this story! And don't mind the other Hetalians making their appearances!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** On London's Stage

**Author:** Faeriesnook**  
Rating:** PG

**Summary:** AU: Getting lost while on a tour of London was not something that Alfred had planned. Neither was stumbling into a theatre and coming across a paint-splattered Brit reciting _Hamlet_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. I also do not own _Hamlet._

-

"Al? Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Alfred glanced up from his Nintendo DS, before shaking his head. "Have you even had anything to eat today…?"

"Yes _Mom_," he rolled his eyes, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at his brother. "I reheated some left over pizza while you were in the shower. Now go on and have fun with the others!"

"But…"

"I'm _fine_." He was anything but fine, but he didn't want Matthew to worry. That's all his brother had been doing since he had come home Saturday night with a black eye. His twin was still convinced that Alfred had gotten into a fist fight with someone, his leading suspicion being Arthur. Of course, the American was far too proud to admit he had gotten hurt because he had hit himself in the face with one of the prop weapons while he and Yong Soo had been fooling around. He peered to the side sighing heavily when he saw the worried look on his brothers' face. "If I come with you guys will you stop worrying?"

"I-I'm not worrying! It's just…" Matthew shifted, glancing off to the side. "Normally you go to that theater every day… But you haven't gone since Saturday…"

And today was Wednesday, their second week in London. With a sigh Alfred returned his gaze to his DS, poking at the screen and ordering his Pokémon to attack. That was right; he hadn't been to the theatre since Saturday, since he had gotten that black eye while fooling around with Yong Soo, since he had gotten into an argument with Arthur…

He had to cringe at that memory. It had started out with a simple question. Alfred had just wanted to know what '_frattelo_' meant. But Arthur had suddenly become defensive. So the American had gone to Feliciano, the Italian happily answering his question. The word meant 'brother'. This lead to more questions naturally. But when Alfred had tried to ask Arthur, the Brit had become incredibly defensive. And then, well, then they were screaming at one another. Alfred couldn't remember necessarily what; all he did remember were that the words cut deep. Yao had attempted to intervene, to make some sort of peace between the two. But the damage had already been done. Arthur had told Alfred to 'get the fuck lost and don't come back' while Alfred told him 'go to hell'.

That had been Wednesday. And since then, Alfred had been firmly set on not returning to the theatre. Not until Arthur apologized. But his phone had remained silent. The American had to restrain himself from texting the Brit randomly like he normally did, just to receive an irritable response, which would only lead to Arthur asking Alfred when he would be getting to the theatre. He couldn't do that. Not until he got an apology! And if he was to text the Brit, then he would need to apologize! And he hadn't done anything! He had just asked Arthur a few questions!

… Alright… Maybe he has pestered him. But still! There was no need for Arthur to explode on him like that!

"Al?"

"Ah! Sorry Mattie, uh, tough boss fight!" His brother didn't buy his lie, but he didn't push it. Alfred was grateful for that.

"Please come along? You've been hauled up in your room… We're all worried." At this, Alfred released a frustrated groan before he saved, shutting his DS off and snapping it shut.

"Alright, so where're we goin'?" He could see his brothers eyes light up in excitement. And his relief was clear on his face. Alfred couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He hadn't realized how worry his brother actually had been. Or any of them actually, as he was met with surprised and relieved looks when he followed Matthew downstairs to the lobby of their hotel.

"Ah! Comrade Jones is joining us?" His eye twitched as he gave the Russian student a small glare. Ivan knew he didn't like being called that. He had told the Russian specifically.

He was pretty sure Ivan did it to piss him off.

"I told you Braginsky, don-"

"Ah! Alfred has finally stopped his sulking?" A familiar French voice cut him off, and soon arms had wrapped around his shoulders, a familiar bearded chin resting on his shoulder. "Honestly _cher_, you should have come to me for advice."

"Or me _amigo_!" Antonio had bounced right over to them, Gilbert not too far behind. "At least then we could've helped you get ready for heart break!"

"Let me guess, Mr. Stage Manager wasn't into guys?" The last member of the infamous Bad Friends Trio (as they'd come to be known amongst the trip goers) chirped, a sly smirk on his lips. "I think we need to take Jones in here to get his gaydar fixed."

"Hee~ Look at him! He's turning red as a tomato!"

"Sh-Shut up! I didn't like Arthur like that!" Alfred shot away from the three, crossing his arms in front of his face like an 'x' to keep them away. "Mind your own damn business!"

"But that's no fun." Was Gilbert's simple retort, while Francis rolled his eyes, turning to speak with the Spanish member of their trio. Scowling the American stomped over to his brother, who was shyly standing next to Katyusha. Ivan wasn't too far behind, and from the way Matthew shifted, he was sure that the Russian was sending him the iciest glare he could manage.

"We should get going," came a curt voice, Alfred's eyes landing on Gilbert's more stoic younger brother. Ludwig was glancing at them all, most likely feeling incredibly out of placed as one hand smoothed over his slicked back blond hair. Gilbert bounced forward, slinging his arm around the younger of the Germans.

"Right! Lead the way West!"

And like that, they were off. Shoving his hands in his pockets Alfred trailed behind the group. He kept silent while they walked, going someplace (he hadn't been paying attention when Ludwig had told him). In the front of the group was Francis, Gilbert and Antonio, they three friends chattering away loudly in a mix of French, German and Spanish. And yet, none of them seemed to have any problems, their native tongues mixing together in a lovely melody. Behind those three were Katyusha and Matthew, walking with laced hands. The Ukrainian student was chattering away happily, his twin meanwhile blushing madly, looking off to the side in a shy manner. And much to Alfred's surprise, Ivan didn't seem ready to maul his brother for even being within a foot of his older sister. No instead, he was chattering away about… Something, with Ludwig.

Alfred all the while remained uncharacteristically quiet, looking around the group of students. People he had known for years. Who he had gone on these sort of trips with before. Some who he had known practically his entire life…

_"__We're quite the group, aren't we? Misfits that found a place to thrive amongst one another."_

Arthur's words filtered back into his mind. Alfred remembered them well, remembered watching Arthur's expression soften as he spoke. How his troupe mates had been completely oblivious. Alfred could remember feeling as if only he and Arthur had been there, as if he had been intruding on something sacred. How he had felt like an outcast amongst a group of misfits in that theatre.

Now, looking at a group of people he had known for years, he couldn't help but feel like an outcast amongst them as well.

Just where did he belong…?

"Comrade~" His eye twitched, especially upon seeing a sly smirk beneath the Russian's smiling mask. Oh he so did that to annoy him! He so did! "You are falling behind… Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's just peachy." He bit out, looking passed the giant. And he had to agree with Ivan. They had fallen behind quite a bit. "… Why'd you stop and wait for me…? Shouldn't you be threatening Mattie for holding your sisters hand?"

An actual pout crossed the Russian's face as they walked side-by-side. "_Da_, I should. But sister asked me to be nice, as she cares for him… And if he makes Katyusha happy, I should be happy for her. But if he breaks her heart…"

"Then I tackle and restrain you so Mattie can get a head start." They both laughed at that, Alfred feeling his usual grin returning. He felt grateful for the company now, even if it was from someone who he was quite sure went out of their way to annoy him. "Where are we going anyways?"

Ivan shrugged, idly fixing his scarf. "I didn't hear Ludwig when he told us. And Gilbert wouldn't tell me."

"Well that's totally not suspicious at all." Ivan hummed in agreement. Alfred sighed, running a hand through his hair. The rest of the group was getting further and further ahead. But at least they were still in sight.

Actually, now that he was looking around opposed to staring at the ground… He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu…

And the rain beginning definitely did not help.

"We should take shelter." Ivan's large hand landed on his shoulder, the Russian beginning to steer him towards a familiar building. Alfred felt his stomach drop, digging his sneakers into the paved ground. No. He wasn't going in there. He didn't care how hard the rain fell! He wouldn't!

"Bu-But the others! We should cat-"

"They will be taking shelter as well," Ivan blinked in confusion, cocking his head to one side as he looked between Ivan and the building. Then that sly smile returned, the Russia continuing to pull him towards the building. "What's wrong Comrade Jones~ Don't you like theaters?"

"Ivan, I swear to God… Le-Let's just go catch up with the others and hide out with them!"

"_Nyet_." And just like that, Alfred was pulled into the theater he had been avoiding like the plague. At least until he received an apology from a certain prickly Brit. Shoulders slumped he tried to hide behind his larger companion, not prepared at all to deal with Arthur. "Hello? Is anybo-"

"Shh!" A sharp hiss cut off Ivan's childish voice. An unfamiliar one at that. Slowly Alfred peeked out from behind the Russian student, one eyebrow quirking up. A young woman was standing on the stage, her long brown hair pushed back by a flower. She was frowning at them both, a blanket draped over her arm. Blinking almost owlishly, he came out from behind Ivan, but what he was about to say became caught in his throat as he caught sight of who else was on the stage.

A familiar blond was lying on the stage, curled up like a cat amongst various props and costume pieces. The woman that had been scowling at them followed Alfred's gaze, landing on the slumbering stage manager. He could hear her release a soft sigh, shaking the blanket out before laying it over Arthur's slumbering form. "Theater's closed.

"It's raining." She blinked at that, pushing her bangs back thoughtfully.

"Oh… Well I guess if that's the case…" Her frown had faded and she gestured for them to come closer, a finger on her lips. "Just keep quiet. As you can see, our stage manager finally gave into sleep."

"Finally!?" Alfred couldn't keep from speaking up, rushing passed Ivan and down the aisle. "Is Arthur okay!?"

The woman blinked, looking between the worried America and the sleeping Brit. "Er… Well sorta. He's just been pulling a few all-nighters since Saturday… How do you know Arthur?"

"That's that American he told you about," Alfred craned his head back at the sudden voice, spotting Vash in the rafters fixing a light. The paintball gun-totting technician glared down at him. "Where the Hell have you been? Feliciano said you two got into a fight."

"Ah… We did." He smiled sheepishly, looking back towards Arthur. However, before he could say anything more, the brunette had jumped off the stage, pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

"So _you're_ Alfred! Oh my God! It's so nice to finally meet you!" She was beaming, struggling to keep her voice down. "I'm Elizaveta, one of the actors.

"Oh, um, it's really nice to meet you." He blinked, surprised by the reaction.

"Who's your friend?" Was the next question. Alfred glanced over his shoulder at the ever-smiling Ivan.

"That's Ivan." He turned his attention back to Elizaveta, about to speak when a sudden voice cut him off.

"Aiya! Elizaveta! Have you seen Yong Soo aru?"

"Sorry Yao, can't say I have. And I told you to keep your voice down!" She hissed. The Chinese man rolled his eyes as he walked across the stage, blinking when he caught sight of Alfred.

"Ah! Alfred, you're back aru!" A smile formed across the man's face as he walked across the stage, being careful to keep his voice down. "We had all been sure Arthur had scared you off aru."

"Nah… I just been busy…" That was a lie, but he really didn't want to admit he had just been sulking around in his hotel room. Yao nodded, though from the look in his eyes the Chinese man didn't buy it. If Alfred had learned anything from the few days he had known Yao, it was the man could see through any lie.

"Well, you're just in time. If you wouldn't mind, I need help…"

"What's up…?" He couldn't help letting his eyes drift back to the sleeping Arthur. He really didn't feel like helping…

"I can help!" He jumped, surprised by Ivan's sudden offer, the Russian already walking up the steps of the stage. Yao blinked a bit surprised as well by the look of it, but that look of surprise faded away into a soft smile.

"That would be greatly appreciated. Are you one of Alfred's friends?"

Ivan peeked back towards Alfred, who just grinned. "Yup! Ivan, that's Yao, Yao Ivan."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you Ivan." Yao smiled still, taking one of the Russian's larger hands and beginning to pull him off. Alfred snickered noticing the blush that had escaped the giant's face. Oh he would so be teasing him later…

However, soon his attention landed back on Arthur. He hesitated for a moment, before speaking softly. "So he hasn't been sleeping…?"

"Not a wink," she said with a sigh, soon climbing back onto the stage and readjusting the blanket. "But we're all pretty use to it. Arthur always stresses himself out when it comes down to the show… He always ends up having to do twice as much work because well… You met our stage crew."

A bemused smiled formed across her face, the woman smoothing the blanket out, before managing to take a paintbrush out of Arthur's hand. The Brit shifted slightly, rubbing his eyes before turning onto his side. Elizaveta laughed a little, brushing hair from his eyes, her eyes meeting Alfred's. She looked ready to say something, but held off. Instead she returned her attention to Arthur, moving some of the props that were around him to one side. "Well… I should get back to helping backstage. Feel free to just hang around. Ah, and if any of the actors pester you just tell them Lizzy said you can stay."

"Oh… Are you guys doin' a rehearsing?" He had only ever been there when the stage crew had been working. The brunette smiled, nodding.

"But not for another hour." She supplied, standing up and beginning to walk off stage. "I'll see you Alfred!"

And just like that, Alfred was left alone with the slumbering Arthur.

Well this didn't feel awkward at all. He looked around, wondering what he should do. Wishing that someone else would show up. But even Vash had vanished from the rafters. With a small sigh, Alfred climbed onto the stage, taking a seat near the sleeping blond. Idly he picked up one of the props, a chalice from the looks of it. Arthur had probably been in the process of painting it when he fell asleep…

With nothing else to really do, Alfred looked around for the paint and a brush. He spotted them on the other side of Arthur, and with a small shrug to himself, shifted positions, leaning over Arthur to reach them. He froze for a moment, hearing Arthur mumble in his sleep, the American looking down, his face turning bright red upon realizing how close he was to the other. He held his breath, trying to tell his body to just _move_, but instead he remained frozen, staring down at Arthur.

He looked so calm when he slept… Any irritation that Arthur generally held had faded away. The ever permanent scowl smoothed away into a content smile. Alfred was quiet, setting the chalice down, forgetting his original intention as he brushed his fingers against the slumbering blonds' cheek. Arthur shifted, his face scrunching up something before it relaxed, leaning against Alfred's fingers. And he smiled a little, brushing his thumb against the surprisingly soft skin. His heart beat against his chest, Alfred not being able to fight down a small smile.

Arthur really was beautiful when he wasn't screaming at the American or someone…

He smiled, brushing hair out of Arthur's eyes. He could feel his cheeks heating up, but he didn't care. It wasn't like anyone was there to see him, or tease him. And Arthur wouldn't know…

"You've gotta take better care of yourself Arthur," he murmured, running his fingers through the dirty blond locks. Arthur shifted again, his large eyebrows scrunching downward. Again he mumbled something that Alfred couldn't make out, swatting at his hand. Alfred couldn't fight down the chuckle, leaning away picking up the forgotten chalice and deciding to do what he had originally planned to do.

Elizaveta fluttered in and out occasionally, other people passing by him on the stage. At one point Feliciano took a seat beside him, the Italian remaining relatively quiet as they worked side by side. Yao passed by them later on, Ivan trailing behind him carrying various paint cans. And Alfred snickered again seeing the look the Russian had on his face. Oh yeah, teasing was so happening once they were done for the day.

Occasionally he and Feliciano spoke, but it was only brief whispered conversations. Both not wanting to wake Arthur up. The Italian had admitted that Arthur had not been sleeping well since the argument he and Alfred had had. And if anything, he seemed to throw himself even more into work. The brunet had no idea what the argument had been about though, and Alfred opted to just shrug, not divulging into the details.

It wasn't until a small groan sounded, that the two paused in their work. Arthur shifted, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes, consciousness no doubt returning. The Brit shifted, stretching out is legs before finally sitting up, yawning widely as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. Alfred couldn't help but grin, returning his eyes to the toy soldier he was painting (he wasn't sure it was actually for the play, but Feliciano had asked him to paint it). "Mornin' sleepy-head."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur go stone still. Alfred could feel tension creeping back. He turned his gaze, hoping Feliciano's presence would defuse any future situation.

The Italian was gone. Alfred gulped, scanning the theatre for anyone. But no one was around. Well… Except Arthur…

"So uh-"

"What are you doing here?" Came the snap, Alfred cringed, despite having been expecting it. Looking back at the little soldier in his hand, he shrugged.

"I was passing by with my group. Started raining so Ivan dragged me in here before I could even see where we were doing… Oh um… 'Lizzy said I can stay'."

He heard the frustrated groan, and he could just picture the roll of green eyes. "'Course. It just had to be Elizaveta. Couldn't have been Norway or anyone else."

Alfred gave a sheepish smile, dipping his little brush into one of the blue paints. "Yeah well… It's not like I wanna stay."

"So why not leave?"

"Ivan's helpin' Yao out. I would feel bad leaving him."

"Ivan… Isn't that the Braginsky guy you're always complaining about?" At the curious question, he risked glancing at Arthur. The Brit was rubbing his eyes, still looking a bit drowsy. The sharp emeralds were locked on him though, one bushy brow quirked up. Alfred smiled sheepishly, dragging the brushes bristles across the toy, watching the faded red color become a striking shade of blue.

"Yup, that's him! He's not too bad though…" Ivan really wasn't as bad as Alfred had always thought. The American had gotten the wrong impression of him when they had first met two years ago. "He just likes to tease people a lot."

"Probably his way of treating friends." Arthur stood, stretching his hands above his head, wincing when his bones cracked. "Damn Scot's the same way to me. Always teases me, but his way of showing he cares."

"Maybe…" He thought about it for a moment, looking from Arthur back at the toy. "Seems about right. I mean, there was this other student who use to come on these trips. And Ivan'd always push down on his head… But the two were pretty good friends."

Granted, that Latvian boy seemed rather terrified of the Russian. Or in retrospect, of everyone on the trip.

"See, I just get punched." Arthur snorted, sitting back down and snatching the toy out of Alfred's and, blue paint smearing over his fingers. "Why're you painting this? We don't need it."

"Feliciano asked. Said he didn't know what you had ready to be painted yet." Arthur snorted again, rolling the little soldier between his fingers.

"I have a whole castle interior set that needs to be built, _and_ painted. Could've had you do that." And then he shrugged. "Probably didn't know where the designs were."

"You guys are finally building stuff? Do I get to actually see the set!?"

"Fuck no! You want to see it, come to the show!"

"Already going. Remember?" An impish smile formed as he leaned forward, face inches away from Arthur's. "Our _date_."

The Stage Manager turned as red as one of Antonio's tomatoes. "Th-That! I never said! You… You are infuriating!"

Alfred leaned away, laughing as he was punched in the shoulder. And for an instant, it was like before their argument; the two just teasing each other in a playful manner. For a few minutes, the American couldn't help but pray that maybe the argument had just been forgotten. That Arthur didn't remember the harsh words. Luck wasn't on his side though, because within moments of that prayer, the Brit's expression darkened, before he was glaring at Alfred. He stood quite suddenly, nearly pegging the toy soldier at Alfred.

"You continue painting that thing for Feliciano. I have work that needs get done." The icy tone had returned. Blue eyes went wide as he reacted without thinking, reaching out to grab the Brit's wrist. A scathing look was the response. "What the hell do you think you're doing Mr. Jones?"

"I-I…" No. He wasn't going to apologize first! He wasn't! "Don't you have anything for me to do!? You normally have a laundry list!"

"No. I'm quite capable of handling things by myself. Now if you would be so kind as to _let go of me_ I can get to work." He tried to yank his arm free. But Alfred only tightened his grip, standing up. "I said le-"

"No."

"Stop being such a child!" Another tug, Alfred returned the glare with one of his own.

"No. I'm not gonna let go so you can just run off and avoid me again! Fuck Arthur! I don't get what the fuck the big deal is about me just asking you a question! I get it. You're touchy about the freakin' word-"

"Alfred."

"-But there's no reason to just kick me out like that! To just tell me how fuckin' useless I am! 'Cause I know I'm not that smart! But dammit I thought we were friends-"

"Will you ju-"

"-Aren't we friends!? Or am I just another dumbass American who likes to think everything revolves around them!? Is that all I am!? Some stupid American who comes in and lets you boss them around until they try to get to know you-"

"You're hurting me!" The words cut through Alfred's rant. Blue eyes going wide as he stared at the Brit. And then, when the words registered in his mind, he released the others wrist as if he had been burned. Arthur took a step or two back, staring at the American with guarded eyes, cradling his wrist against his chest. Alfred swallowed dryly, taking a step or two back, his eyes going even wider. A sudden fear gripped his throat, any words he had been trying to get out suddenly becoming caught. And all the while, Arthur kept watching him, green eyes cutting right through him.

Alfred had never felt so exposed.

He took another step back, before reacting without really thinking. He ran. He didn't hear Arthur shout out after him, nor did he hear the stage manager jump off the stage and take off after him. All Alfred was focused on was getting to that exit and away.

He didn't however expect the door to open, leading him to crash into the man who had been about to enter the theatre. He toppled backwards, landing on his rear. With a small groan, he glanced up, his eyes widening when an older brunet man stared down at him, with eyes the exact same color as Feliciano's.

"_Grandpa only casts the best performers for the leads in our troupe."_

His mouth went dry.

He had just crashed into the man in charge of the troupe.

His luck just kept getting better and better…

**-**

**Overall I am not pleased entirely with how this chapter played out. Nor do I like the ending D: But hey, Grandpa Rome has appeared?**

**OTL Sorry for any fail in this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it?**

**Little bit of Rochu thrown in for the ever amazing Loveanime18! Again, I owe you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** On London's Stage

**Author:** Faeriesnook**  
Rating:** PG

**Summary:** AU: Getting lost while on a tour of London was not something that Alfred had planned. Neither was stumbling into a theatre and coming across a paint-splattered Brit reciting _Hamlet_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. I also do not own _Hamlet._

_

* * *

_

"So _you're_ Alfred." He nodded dumbly for the fiftieth time since he had crashed into one Julius Vargas, the head of the Empire Theatre Troupe. He had excepted to be kicked out immediately, in all honesty, the moment the crash had occurred. But to his surprise, Mr. Vargas had been more concerned if he was alright, almost immediately asking Arthur what he had done do cause Alfred to run. At least Alfred thought that's what happened. It was all really a blur. All he could truly remember clearly was Arthur begrudgingly introducing him and Mr. Vargas before vanishing backstage with a blond man with five o'clock shadow. After that, he had been pushed into one of the plush theatre seats, worried amber eyes looking him over, before Mr. Vargas took a seat beside him. That was how they got to where they were now. The two seated near the back, Alfred watching Arthur return onstage, barking orders at the other crew members. Mr. Vargas seemed to notice his gaze, nudging Alfred's shoulder playfully. "He's like a pirate captain, huh?"

The American blinked, cocking his head to one side as he stared at the Brit. A thoughtful frown formed across his face, his eyebrows scrunching together as he imagined it. He pictured Arthur in a brightly colored red coat, with gold lining, pulled over a ruffle shirt. A tri-corner hat set on top his head, with giant feathers adorning it. A cutlass (opposed to the rolled up paper he was waving) was in one hand as he shouted at Yong Soo to drop the power drill.

Alfred could not fight down the snort, the image fading back to the (exhausted) paint-covered Brit in torn jeans and a worn band t-shirt. Mr. Vargas was not so subtle, releasing a booming laugh that echoed off the theatre walls. Arthur's head shot around, but he simply glared before returning to what he was doing. Alfred ducked his head, fiddling with his silent phone, a tiny grin tugging at his lips.

"He does…" He responded finally, almost feeling lame for even answering. Mr. Vargas though didn't seem to care, he seemed happier in fact that Alfred had spoken.

"So you _can_ talk! I was sure the Lion-" he jerked his head towards Arthur "-got your tongue."

He looked down again, a small whine escaping the older man. "Hey! Don't go back to being quiet and shy! I want to talk with you!"

"'m sorry, for running into you I mean, Mr. Vargas."

"Julius," the man responded, and his grin really was infectious. Alfred could feel the corners of his mouth lifting despite himself. "That's better! Come on, smile! I'm not going to bite. That's Artie's job."

"Oi! Old man! What did I say about calling me that!"

"… He has ears like a hawk, I swear." Mr. Vargas muttered, glancing towards the stage before at Alfred. "So, you're the guy who's been coming in for free and giving us a hand? I was hoping I would get to meet you one of these days!"

"I didn't do much."

"Are you kidding me! We'd probably be sending Artie-"

"Old man!"

"-To the hospital for an aneurism or something if you hadn't shown up!" The man grinned, now ruffling Alfred's hair. "Feli says you're like his guardian angel. You make sure he doesn't overwork himself and eats decently. I appreciate you keeping an eye on my boy like that. I'm so use to Arthur working himself to death, little perfectionist."

Alfred blinked, eyes glancing back to the stage. They were building something, Ivan helping a man with spiked up blond hair lift a beam. "Our stage crews pretty tiny. And with Yong Soo being banned from power tools after the balcony incident, Yao being better suited for painting and Kiku going between set building and painting with Arthur, we're always stretched thin. We're lucky some of our veteran actors come to help out, like Søren there."

He watched the troupe on the stage, the blond, Søren, ruffling the short stage managers hair. "But with you around, we get a little more work done, and Arthur's more relaxed… At least he was…"

"We got into a fight," Alfred smiled sheepishly, looking at Mr. Vargas before back towards the stage. "It was my fault I guess. I was bein' nosy…"

"You wanted to know about him didn't you?" He nodded, his gaze shifting downwards. The older man gave a simple laugh, patting him on the back. "Don't mind it; he's like that to everyone. Arthur's felt bad about the whole thing anyways. But the guys got too much pride to admit it."

There was a pause, before Mr. Vargas rose to his feet. "I have to check on the actors, make sure their not giving Feli, Lovi or Elizaveta a hard time with costumes." Another pause, a hand on his shoulder. "I'll leave him in your care. Don't eat him, alright Lion?"

There was a snort. Blue eyes went suddenly wide as he lifted his head. Piercing green eyes met with his own, Arthur standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. "Yeah, yeah, just get lost you old fart."

"You wound me so, little brat." There was affection behind the words, for both he realized. Mr. Vargas smiled at Alfred one last time, before nodding his head as he strolled down the aisles.

There was a tense silence, bother looking away from one another. It dragged on, before Arthur released an exasperated cry. "I'm sorry alright! I don't think when I'm angry! I say things I don't mean! I don't think you're some 'stupid American'. You've helped out so much, and I appreciate all the hard work. But, but… Dammit!"

He collapsed into one of the seats, burying his hands in his hair. Alfred sat there a bit stunned, unsure of how to react. But Arthur was speaking again, his voice muffled as he hid his face in his hands. "I don't _like_ talking about my past Alfred. I'm sorry, I just don't. I never have… I-"

"It's okay," the American reached out hesitantly, before resting a hand on the Brit's shoulder. Arthur almost immediately stiffened. "I…I know what you mean. I'm sorry for pushing it."

"I'm sorry for snapping like that."

"How's your wrist?" Worry crept into his voice. Arthur lifted his head from his hands finally, blinking in confusion. But that confusion soon broke apart, a small barely noticeable smile forming. And God, did Arthur have a nice smile…

"Its fine Alfred. Is _that_ why you ran off?" Alfred smiled sheepishly, and the young man besides him laughed again, giving the American's shoulder a playful shove. "Don't worry. The Scot's done worse."

"Still… I didn't… I mean…" He looked away. He hadn't meant to lose his temper. Not like that. He always forgot his strength when he lost his temper. He always ended up hurting someone. He always-

Arthur flicked his forehead, before holding his hand out. "We were both at fault. Let's step passed it now."

Alfred took the smaller hand in his own, a broad smile forming across his face. "Yeah… Good idea."

And just like that, the tension was gone.

* * *

"Thank you for your help today aru!" Alfred snickered, watching the bashful look cross Ivan's face. The Russian looked down as they exited the theatre, Alfred slipping his hands into his pockets.

"I'll drag 'im with me next time if you want Yao." He saw a look of surprise cross Ivan's face, before it turning into a blush when Yao's face lit up.

"That would be great aru! Oh… Well… If Ivan wouldn't mind aru."

"D-Da! I would love to come back! Today was fun."

"Ah, young love," Alfred heard Arthur murmur as he stood besides the American. Alfred laughed at that, nodding in agreement as he observed Yao and Ivan look anywhere but at each other. He had to wonder how long it would take one of them to ask the other out on a date.

His eyes moved to glance at Arthur, a tiny blush forming at that thought. Should he try asking Arthur out? No, no, no. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He would just ignore those feelings. After all, he would be leaving in a few weeks! He'd probably never see the Brit again.

"You didn't have to kick us out, y'know." He found himself saying instead, a small pout on his lips. "We could've kept working backstage like the others."

'No way," Arthur scowled, but it was a playful scowl. He turned to face Alfred fully, arms crossed over his chest. "You aren't allowed to see or hear anything until opening night."

Alfred pouted more. "You're no fun, y'know that?"

"Sorry mate." He wasn't sorry at all. It made his pout larger. "S-So…"

He glanced at the other. Arthur had dropped his gaze suddenly, shifting uneasily from foot to foot as his fingers played with the bottom of his t-shirt. A light flush was forming, and Alfred felt his heart speed up just a little bit. He waited for him to speak, and finally the Brit swallowed, continuing with his eyes locked on the ground. "You'll… You'll be here tomorrow?"

"'Course…" He flushed now as well, looking away. "I mean… If you don't mind…"

"Of course I don't mind!" He snapped his head back up, meeting Arthur's wide green eyes. "Of course I want you to come back tomorrow!"

"Ah, young love ahen," he heard Yao echo; a smirk on the Chinese mans lips. Arthur's face went bright red, the Brit even taking a few steps away from a similarly blushing Alfred.

"Do-Don't get me wrong! It's not for me. It's just… Feli! He um, he missed you a lot s-so… Just it woul-"

"Arthur you aren't working tomorrow aru." Yao cut in smoothly, interrupting Arthur's embarrassed rant. The Brit looked thrown off-guard, looking at the man with an arched eyebrow.

"I'm… Not?"

"No," was the response, the Chinese man yawning slightly as he readjusted his ponytail. "You collapsed today-"

"I didn't collapse!"

"-We all agreed tomorrow you're to take a day off and rest aru." A delicate eyebrow was raised. "Or would you like to try and argue with Elizaveta aru."

"… N-Not particularly." He admitted, a small frown forming. "When did you all agree to this?"

"While you were sleeping~"

"… Thank you all, so much." The scowl grew, Arthur giving a heavy sigh as he turned to look at Alfred. "Well I guess I won't be seeing you tomorrow…"

"We can hang out still!" Alfred blurted out before realizing it. Arthur blinked, and Alfred was half tempted to backpedal. To take back what he had said.

But then a small smile formed across Arthur's face.

* * *

It was fairly odd coming down into the lobby the next day to see Arthur sitting in one of the chairs waiting for him. Originally Alfred had tried to insist they meet someplace else, but Arthur had stubbornly insisted on picking him up at the hotel, something that Alfred had embarrassedly agreed too. He stayed by the elevator for a moment, staring at Arthur, before finally shouting out to the other, shoving his hands in the kangaroo pouch of his sweat shirt. Arthur turned his head at the sound of his name, before rising to his feet and giving a simple wave.

Alfred came to a halt, not being able to help dumbly at Arthur. He was so use to seeing the stage manager in stained, ripped jeans and worn band t-shirts. He was not at all use to seeing the blond in black blacks and a white button down shirt. In all honesty, had it not been for the silver glasses perched over those striking green eyes he would have thought it was someone completely different. Arthur said nothing, eyes trailing over the American teen who shifted in response, fiddling with a loose thread on his worn hoody. "Uh, was I s'pose to dress up?"

"What?" Arthur blinked, looking perplexed by Alfred's words. He glanced down at himself, raising one of those bushy brows. "This is how I dress. What, did you think I walked around always covered in paint?"

Yes, as a matter of fact, he really did. But saying that would result in him being hit and it was far too early for that. Plus they had only just made up. So instead he shrugged, only half lying. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Come on git, let's get going."

"Where are we going anyways?" He followed after the Brit, waving to Ludwig when they passed by. "I'll be back later, keep Ivan from killin' Mattie for me!"

"I thought you and Braginsky were getting along," Arthur questioned. Alfred gave a laugh, grinning as he returned his hands to his hoodies pockets.

"We are. But my little bro's still dating his big sister. Meaning Ivan still wants to kill him." Though the Russian was a bit better. He had let Matt take Katyusha out the other night for dinner. In retrospect though, he had been distracted by Alfred teasing him over a certain Chinese techi. And man, could that guys face go red!

Arthur simply hummed, reaching out to grab the American's sleeve before he could walk into traffic. He flushed slightly, mumbling a simple thanks as they waited for the walk light, continuing on in silence. Alfred frowned a little as he glanced around, trying to look for anything familiar, before looking at Arthur. "So… Where _are_ you takin' me?"

"Not tellin'."

"But Arthur! C'mon!"

"Oh hush, you'll see." Arthur remarked, quickening his pace. Alfred too picked up his pace to keep up, a bit surprised at how quickly the smaller blond was. He chewed his lip, trying to think of something they could talk about, but the only question that continued to pop up in his mind was something he was too embarrassed to ask.

Was this a date?

No, no of course not! Arthur had promised to take him around London when they had first met. He was only keeping that promise!

But still…

"What's with your trip?" He blinked, not expecting Arthur to be the one to break the silence as they continued walking. The Brit glanced at him, before sighing as he elaborated, obviously thinking Alfred didn't understand the question. "What I mean is… Ivan's Russian, you and your brother are American. The Frog and his friends you talk about are French, Spanish and German-"

"Gilbert insists he's Prussian."

"Prussia no longer exists."

"Yeah, we know. He says it'll rise again or somethin'."

"The day that happens Sealand will be its own nation," Arthur responded with a roll of his eyes. But then he waved it off, carrying on. "My point is all of you are from different countries. Or at least seem to be. What's with this trip any-"

"Mattie's Canadian." He spoke up before realizing it. "He'd kill you if he heard you call him American. He'd go all hockey rage on you."

"Cana… What? But you're-"

"Our parents are divorced." He checked both ways this time, walking a step or two ahead now in an attempt to avoid the confused stare. "Anyways, Francis used to live in New York before his parents moved back to Paris. Gilbert and his brother's folks are in the military so they moved around a lot."

"That doesn't answer my question." Arthur almost sounded like he was pouting.

"We do it every summer. Mr. Weillschmidt, Gilbert's and Ludwig's Grandpa chaperones us to wherever we go. Francis, Antonio and Gilbert have been doing these kinda summer things since they were in high school. Francis invited me along when I was a sophomore as a thank you or something for being nice to him when he transferred to my high school. And then he let me bring Mattie cause he knew how hard it was for us to get together. Gilbert's Grandpa was the one who invited Ivan, and his big sister came along to help supervise us all since she was already out of school… One year there cousin or somethin' from Latvia came, but he stopped coming after the first trip."

"So… This isn't a school trip?"

"Nah, though sometimes we call it one." He snorted, lacing his hands behind his head. "I mean, Mr. Weillschmidt treats it like one…"

Pop quizzes during the summer were not fun at all.

"So… You guys just… Get together every summer and go to some random country?" Alfred nodded, Arthur staring at him as if he had grown three heads. "H-How do you afford that!"

"I work three jobs during the school year." That and he was pretty sure Mr. Weillschmidt never fully charged he or Matthew for the trips. He could feel Arthur's eyes on him, the American shifting uncomfortably. "What..?"

"I… Nothing…" The Brit shook his head, before continuing down the side walk. And Alfred couldn't hide the sigh of relief that escaped him. He hadn't wanted that conversation to continue. He really hadn't. Arthur no doubt would've asked about the divorce and then…

"C'mon, we have to take the Tube." Alfred snapped out of his thoughts, nodding dumbly.

"I don't have a card…"

"I swiped the Scots." Arthur grinned, holding a card out. Alfred took it, following Arthur, waiting as he paused by a map before gesturing the American to follow him. He did, waiting until they were on the platform to speak up.

"So… What's up with you and that Scottish guy?"

Arthur looked hesitant for a moment, before giving a shrug. "He's unfortunately my brother."

"Seriously! You never mentioned having a brother!"

"Yeah, cause he pisses me off on a regular basis." Arthur rolled his eyes, their conversation halting as the train came. For a moment Alfred felt like he was back in New York City, a fond smile forming. They waited until the flow of disembarking passengers lessened, boarding the train. Alfred looked around for a seat, but the train was already full. A firm hand suddenly rested on his shoulder, and Alfred found himself pushed into one of the limited seats, Arthur sitting beside him. They didn't speak much, swaying along to the train.

It was so awkward. Alfred fidgeted, unable to sit still. That earned him quite a few glares from Arthur. Sure, the two of them had fallen into silences before. There had been multiple times where they weren't sure what to talk about. But this was different. At least during those other silences they had tasks that could occupy their times. They often drifted into compatible silences while painting or putting together set pieces.

But they had nothing to occupy their time right now. And the silence was growing to be unbearable. Reminding Alfred too much of the tense silence they had shared during the argument. Something he really didn't want to remember…

"I like ice cream!" He blurted out, earning a strange look from Arthur. He shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Chocolate, that's my favorite flavor. I-I mean, I like all kinds of ice cream. Y'know there's a Superman flavor? It doesn't taste all that great but I thought it was so cool. I mean, it's Superman! He's awesome! Ah, but he's probably too exciting for a stodgy guy like you… Do you even read comic books? Oh, wait, you probably don't. I mean, their totally exciting and not boring like that one book you told me to read. What was it? Eh, doesn't matter, sounded boring as Hell-"

Oh God. He was rambling. He was rambling and he couldn't stop. It was a nervous habit of his. Something Mattie always lectured him on. But he couldn't help it. When he started, it was hard to stop. Even when he wanted to. He just continued, saying the first things that came to mind. He was making a fool of himself. Arthur was going to want to punch him. He needed to shut up. He _had_ to shut up!

"-And what about soccer? I mean, well, it's football here isn't it? Why is that? I mean, why switch the name around? Like, I don't really care. I like American football way better then soccer. I mean, it's way cooler. But why's it named after your version of soccer? I mean, there's gotta be some reason behind it right? Did some guys just sit around and go-"

A hand, graciously, clamped over his mouth. Arthur was looking at him in a mix of exasperation and amusement, one bushy brow quirked upwards. Alfred continued rambling for a few moments, his voice muffled by the Brit's hand. Finally though, the nervous rambling faded, Arthur's hand remaining clamped down over his mouth. The exasperated look faded into one of pure amusement. "I like rocky road personally. But chocolate is very good. Also, I find Superman highly overrated. I'm more of a Batman fan myself."

"Mmph!"

"What was that?" Alfred pushed the hand away, eyes wide. "How could you say Superman's overrated! He's only the coolest superhero ever!"

"Oh yes, so terribly amazing. Indestructible to everything but a tiny green rock."

"Pfft, better then mopey old Batman. The guy doesn't even have any superpowers!"

"Which makes him much more noble in my opinion. He doesn't _have_ to be a superhero y'know."

"And neither does Superman!"

The rest of the ride was spent with the two arguing who was better out of the two. And eventually, as a result of the constant flow of speech, breaking off to discuss other topics that came up. Before the American even realized it Arthur was standing up, gesturing for him to follow. They disembarked, Arthur's hand grabbing hold of his own, so that he wouldn't get lost was the Brit's reasoning. And well it was crowded… So Alfred let it go. Instead tightening the hold. Their hands remained linked, even when they exited the Tube station. They would have to walk from there Arthur told him, but he assured Alfred it would be worth it. Again he tried to get the other to tell him where they were going, Arthur avoiding answering it the entire time. Finally, Alfred just gave up, crossing his arms over his chest with a (childish) huff. That only seemed to amuse Arthur further, the Brit teasing him as they turned a corner.

"Here we are!" Arthur finally came to a stop, resulting in the American to look around wildly. Finally! He had to wonder just where they had gone. He bet it was someplace awesome. It had to be after all that traveling!

It took him a moment to realize the white building in front of him was where they had been traveling to. He blinked in confusion, turning around to ask Arthur if he was joking around. After all, this place looked boring!

But he saw the excited look on Arthur's face. He was smiling. A light flush dusting across his pale cheeks and the striking green eyes that had locked on Alfred, gauging his reaction. Slowly though, the look of excitement began to fade, his smile drifting downwards. And Alfred felt a slight panic.

He didn't want to see that smile disappear.

"Looks awesome!"

"… You don't have to lie…" The smile was gone, Arthur looking away.

"No! No! I'm serious!"

"Don't lie!"

"I'm not!" Alfred shook his head quickly, reaching out and taking Arthur's hand with his own. "I mean it. Let's go."

Arthur peeked up slowly, and a hopeful look had overcome the green eyes. That smile tugging upwards again. He squeezed Alfred's hand with his own, giving a hesitant nod. "W-Well, alright then…"

Really, after spending so many days in a theatre, going to another one was something Alfred didn't really want. But hey, it was The Globe. It was famous, a must go spot to tourists. And well… It was very Arthur-like to take him there of all places.

Theatres just suited him.

"Arthur! Hallo!" He looked to the side to see a blonde girl waving to him, a red ribbon tied in her hair. She ran over, a bright smile on her lips. Arthur's hand slipped from him, the blond slipping them into his pockets easily.

Alfred couldn't help but feel a bit sad by this.

"'Ello Emma. Been a while."

"That's your own fault mister 'let's-the-Empires-work-him-to-death'." She stated, and Alfred had to blink. She had an accent, but he couldn't place what kind. All he knew was it wasn't British, or anything he had heard…

"Oh, and you don't let The Globe consume your soul on a regular basis?" He teased, a smirk on his lips. "How're you and your brother?"

At that, she glanced over her shoulder. Alfred took a peek as well, seeing a rather intimidating man with a scar on his forehead standing not too far away. Emma turned to face them away, giving a shrug and exasperated sigh. "He's mad at me. As usual. But y'know us."

"You two wouldn't be you if you didn't fight on a regular basis," Arthur supplied shaking his head. "Honestly, sometimes you put the Scot and me to shame."

"How is the haggis-eater?"

"A pain in my arse who doesn't do any of his share of work."

"Mm, and the two squirts?"

"Feli's annoying as usual, and Lovi broke his arm."  
"Ah! What happened?" Alfred shifted uneasily, before quietly excusing himself as he walked towards one of the posters. _A Midsummer's Night Dream_ was playing it seemed. Actually, from the looks of people crowding the famous theatre, he had to wonder if a showing of it had just let out, or was going to start. Alfred peeked back, not able to stop the bit of jealousy that rose up while he watched the two converse. Especially when Emma got Arthur to laugh so easily. It always took Alfred hours to get him to laugh, or at least that's what it felt like. Grumbling he looked away, focusing intently on the poster.

He was jealous. But he shouldn't be. It wasn't like he had come here specifically to spend time with Arthur. The Brit was just showing him around. It wasn't like they were together. They were just here as friends.

It wasn't a date after all…

"Stare at that thing any harder and it'll burn." An amused voice commented, Alfred turned around quickly, eyes widening. Arthur was behind him, arms crossed over his chest. The American blinked, looking past Arthur to where Emma seemed to be arguing with her brother, only to be drawn back to Arthur when he continued. "Sorry 'bout that. Haven't seen Emma in a good while. Plus she had our tickets hostage."

"Tickets…?"

"Of course. How else do you think we're getting in to see the play." Arthur laughed, reaching out to playfully punch Alfred's shoulder. The American blinked again, looking at him, before back at the poster.

"You bought tickets…?"

"That a problem?" A raised eyebrow. Alfred shook his head mutely.

… Maybe this was a date…

* * *

Alfred didn't watch much of the play. He spent a good portion of the time watching Arthur out of the corner of his eye. The stage-manager became so enthralled throughout the entire performance, mouthing lines at random intervals. His green eyes shimmered, taking in every aspect at the same time.

Alfred really couldn't get over how beautiful Arthur was…

They had grabbed a bit to eat after the show, Alfred nodding along as he listened to Arthur ramble on. He had never seen the other so exhilarated before. Alfred couldn't help but grin, refusing to answer an almost breathless looking Arthur asked him what was so funny. And truth be told, nothing in particular was funny. Not at all. Alfred just couldn't get over how excitable a play could make him. Though then again, he really shouldn't be too surprised. They had met because of a play after all. And if Alfred had learned anything, Arthur truly lived for the theatre.

It wasn't until they had reached the Tube, and taken a seat that Arthur's excitement began to fade away. Becoming replaced by what Alfred presumed was exhaustion. And right he was, when two stops later he found Arthur's head resting against his shoulder. He'd drifted off.

"Really are an old man," Alfred snorted, smiling as he shifted so that the other would be more comfortable. Not having the heart to wake him up, he reached out tapping an Asian woman's shoulder and asking her what stop they would have to get off at. The woman was more than happy to help, her pink flower clips bobbing as she explained where to go before striking up a casual conversation with the American. It turned quickly into her teasing Alfred about Arthur. The still awake blond denying vehemently that he and Arthur were not dating in the slightest.

His blush probably didn't help his case though.

She waved good bye when her stop came, reminding Alfred theirs would be in two more stops. He waved goodbye with his free hand, waiting until there was only one more stop before his and Arthur's to shake the stage-manager away.

"So-Sorry," Arthur had said almost immediately, reminding Alfred of a little boy when he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I didn't mean to doze off…"

"S'okay, you looked exhausted."

Arthur's hand found his again, even though the Tube station was hardly crowded. But Arthur once again insisted it was so that the American wouldn't get lost. And Alfred was too happy to be able to hold the still sleepy blond's hand to argue. They didn't speak the entire way to Alfred's hotel, but it was alright. The silence was perfect in Alfred's mind.

"Thanks… I mean for showing me around today and stuff." He spoke up when they reached the hotel, standing awkwardly in the lobby. Arthur shrugged, his hand slipping from Alfred's.

"It's the least I can do. You help us out so much on your own accord."

"Still… I um, I had a lot of fun." He blushed, commenting how lame that had to sound. Rubbing the back of his neck he looked away. "S-So I'll um, see you tomorrow? Same time, same place..?"

"Yes," it came out in an awkward cough, Alfred peeking out of the corner of his eye to see Arthur blushing as well. "Yes well…"

It happened so quick that Alfred almost missed it. Blue eyes went wide, a hand rising to hold his cheek out of pure impulse. He looked at Arthur, who went bright red, taking a quick step back, saying a quick good bye hurrying out of the lobby. Leaving Alfred standing their dumbfounded, before it finally set in.

Arthur had picked him up and walked him back, even when Alfred had offered to meet him someplace.

Arthur had paid for everything (he'd even insisted on it).

Arthur had taken Alfred to see a play.

Arthur had just kissed his cheek.

A dopey smile began to form across Alfred's face. A warmth spreading through his chest as he let the realization sink in.

It had been a date.

* * *

**This chapter… Is evil… So much writers block… I wanna punch it.**

**But right, I hope the ending wasn't too abrupt? I mean, well the kiss and such XD; I'm actually quite worried the romance is forced. If it is let me know..?**

**And yes, there's Rome for all of you :P **

**No one knows how fun some of this dialogue was xD**

**Hope you all enjoyed! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** On London's Stage

**Author:** Faeriesnook**  
Rating:** PG

**Summary:** AU: Getting lost while on a tour of London was not something that Alfred had planned. Neither was stumbling into a theatre and coming across a paint-splattered Brit reciting _Hamlet_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. I also do not own _Hamlet._

_

* * *

_

He really should have listened to Matthew when he had warned him. And he should've listened to Ludwig when he shouted after the rushing American to bring an umbrella. But in his defense, it had been a clear sky when he had left the hotel. Sure, a light drizzle had started, but Alfred hadn't expected the light drizzle to turn into a full-out monsoon! By the time he saw the all too familiar _Golden Sun_ theatre in the distance he was drenched to the bone. It also hadn't helped he'd neglected to grab his jacket on the way out, his Superman t-shirt hardly aiding in keeping him warm, the fabric clinging to his chest. And wet jeans really were the worse. Hell! Even his sneakers were water-logged, squelching with ever step he took. The American sniffled, pushing back soaking wet bangs. He felt absolutely miserable. All he wanted to do was change into some dry clothing, drink some coffee and bundle up under as many blankets as he could.

Of course that couldn't happen. He had come to the theatre to help out, and since he was already there he really couldn't turn back.

Plus… He really needed to see Arthur.

Arthur… His face flushed, a dopey smile forming. And suddenly the rain wasn't so bad. Sure he was freezing, but he would see the grumpy stage-manager (who had kissed his cheek!)soon enough. Just that thought warmed him up.

They needed to talk, he reminded himself. Especially after their "date-that-he-thought-wasn't-one-at-first-but-totally-was-one'. _Especially_ after Arthur had kissed his cheek. That meant Arthur liked him right? Or maybe it was just some European thing… But the Brit had gotten awfully flustered afterwards. He'd been so quick to just rush off. So that had to mean Arthur liked him, right? Alfred really hoped so, because he'd come to like the stage-manager an awful lot since they had first met. Maybe he could ask Arthur to get something to eat after they were finished today? He had some money left. He could treat Arthur! It could be another date! Would Arthur want that? Maybe they could do something this weekend too. Yeah! Alfred could drag him out of the theatre; he probably would need another break anyhow. They could go to some park maybe. Have a-

Any future plans came to a screeching halt when the moment he had entered the blessedly warm theatre, he was attacked by a livid Arthur. "Out!"'

"… Wha?"

"Get. Out." The Brit repeated slowly, as if talking to a small child, even beginning to push Alfred out the door. The soaking wet teen however planted his feet to the ground, refusing to be budged.

"Arthur… It's monsooning out there! I'm _soaked_. There's no way in Hell I am going back out there!"

"Oh yes you are!" Arthur snapped, and Alfred couldn't help but feel hurt. Had he done something wrong yesterday? Had he said something? Thoughts swirled all throughout his mind, Alfred feeling more and more miserable by the second. Had he read the atmosphere wrong? Had he-

His thoughts once again came to a halt when he finally caught sight of the stage.

"Oh c'mon Arthur! _That's_ why I have to get lost? You're not serious!"

"O-Out!"

"I'll hide backstage!"

"No!"

"Arthur, I'll _die_ if I go back out there." The Brit flinched slightly at the idea. Green eyes darted away, Alfred sighing as he planted firm hands on the slightly shorter boy's shoulders. 'Can you live with that guilt Arthur?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You would hardly die." But the livid look had faded. Arthur glanced back at him, his eyes weeping over the American's shivering form with a worried frown. "Git, where's your jacket?"

"Wasn't rainin' when I left."

"Don't you listen to the weather? They were calling for storms all day!" A hand grabbed his wrist, and suddenly Alfred was being dragged down the aisles. "Oi! Søren, I'm stealing your spare clothes!"

The spiky blond on stage didn't even get time to response as Arthur dragged Alfred onto the stage, before behind the curtain.

He was met with the sudden sight of scrambling techi's and actors. Feliciano and Lovino were up to their necks (almost literally) in fabric, Elizaveta standing nearby providing assistance. Kiku was rushing passed them with an arm full of brushes and paint cans, while Yao was perched on scaffolding, shouting down at Yong Soo and the infamous Scot to hold something stead, or something. Each one of them looked absolutely frazzled, leading Alfred to raise an eyebrow.  
"Uh… What's going on? Why's everyone so freaked?"

"'s how everyone gets on the days the old man decides he wants to do a run through with as much of the set and costumes that we have finished." Arthur responded with a roll of his eyes. "Such a pain in the ass. Seriously, only one costumes fully complete, not to mention the sets in utter shambles! And if we don't put on a good run through…"  
The stage-manager trailed off, before shaking his head. "Stay."

Alfred waned to reply back with a sarcastic 'where would I go?', but opted not to. Arthur was in no mood for it, that much was clear. He remained quiet, watching the blond disappear into the sea of people. He watched lazily as the others passed by, a feeling of uselessness beginning to set in. And suddenly he wondered if it would be best to leave. He'd only get in the way. He was just about to step away, to head back to the hotel when a towel covered his head. Arthur's 'tsk'-ing was muted, the Brit toweling off Alfred's soaking wet hair, before setting the towel around the American's neck. Alfred looked up quietly, catching sight of an almost affectionate smile. "Honestly, what am I going to do with you?"

He wasn't sure how to answer, and gratefully Arthur didn't want a real one. Instead he just shoved a bundle of clothing into the American's arms. "You're lucky; Søren was supposed to have football practice after this, so he had his practice clothing. And yes, their clean. Alexander makes sure of that. At most they'll be a bit big on you, but…"

"Thanks," Arthur just shrugged, but he caught sight of the small blush on the others cheeks. So, without another word, Alfred entered the bathroom. It was an absolute mess, really. Brushes were sitting in the sink, paint still in half of them. And he could just imagine Arthur seeing the state of the brushes, they would probably storm out of the bathroom livid. Lecturing the other crew members, telling them they couldn't just leave dirty brushes there; that they had to clean their own brushes, not leave it for someone else. Though, he could also see the Brit just remaining in the bathroom, scrubbing each and every brush until they were perfectly clean. It made him smile, shaking his head as he peeled the soaked t-shirt over his head.

Arthur had been right, Søren's clothes were big on him, but they were dry. And warm. Most importantly they were warm. So he really wasn't going to complain about them being a bit baggy. Bundling up his soaked clothing, Alfred exited the room. He couldn't spot Arthur in the seat of crazed people, a frown forming. Everyone was running around, all panicking from this impromptu run-through. And from some of the complaints he heard, this wasn't new to them at all. In fact, it seemed like something Julius did quite often. Frowning he remained all but pressed against the wall, holding the soaked bundle of clothing. He wasn't sure if he was suppose to stop someone to ask what he should do, but he had a distinct feeling no one would appreciate being stopped.

"Alfred!" He turned his head, just in time to see a familiar ribbon wearing blonde hurry towards him. Lily had her unfinished skirt bundled in one arm, while her free hand carried a bright green mug. She halted in front of him, handing him the steaming mug she had been carrying. "Arthur said he's sorry, he's running all around today. But here! Big brother made you some hot coco."

"… Your brother made it?" Was it poisoned?

"Mmhmm! He makes the best hot coco out of everyone here! So Arthur asked him to make you some." She took the dripping wet bundle of clothing from Alfred, smiling still. And before he could say a word, the little blonde had vanished into the crowd of rushing people.

Alfred was alone again, holding the steaming mug in his hands. Shivering from the lingering cold that remained even with the dry clothing, damp hair clinging to his face. Alfred shifted, pressing awkwardly against the wall shivering as he watched everyone pass by, waiting for the coco to cool down enough to drink.

Things were calming down now, and soon he caught sight of Arthur. The stage manager was balancing a clipboard in one hand, shouting out orders to others. He looked like a general in front of his troops. Alfred watched quietly as the orders were administered, before Arthur looked around. Those green eyes scanned through the thinning crowd, before locking on Alfred's awkwardly standing form. Within a blink, the Brit was in front of him, a warmth suddenly enveloping Alfred. He blinked, a bit confused, before glancing down at the blanket Arthur was adjusting. He stared then dumbly, only half listening as Arthur admonished him yet again.

Arthur had brought him a blanket, had gotten him dry clothing and a warm drink. The dopey smile returned, and despite the fact he was most certainly still freezing (the shivers only lessening a bit), he felt contently warm. Arthur noticed the smile, raising on bushy eyebrow.

"What's with the smile? Is me calling you a bumbling oaf amusing?"

"So what can I do?" Alfred avoided the question, instead glancing around. "I mean, I'm here. Might as well help out!"

At this Arthur looked down guiltily. And Alfred was about to say something when the Brit spoke up. "I'm sorry; I should have called you to let you know not to come in today."

Arthur was still fixing the blanket, running his hands up and down Alfred's arms in an attempt no doubt to warm him. Still though, he avoided looking at the American. "There really isn't much that can be done today. We'll all be figuring out rough cues, that is, when to move the set. Along with helping the actors get the props, whatever ones that are ready to be used that is. And do their costume changes, or as much changing as they can do. And on top of that, Vash and I have to start getting a rough idea of lighting, what would look best and such. Honestly, you came here for no reason. I'm so sorry…"

And he did look incredibly sorry. Shifting from foot-to-foot, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. It made Alfred's gut twist uneasily, and he forced a smile onto his face again. "Hey, no worries. It was a surprise run-through, right? No way you could've known!"

He reasoned, trying to mollify the guilt as he rested a hand over one of Arthur's fidgeting ones. Arthur as a response went suddenly stiff, slowly lifting his head until green met blue. Alfred hadn't realized how close they were… His cheeks felt warm as he cleared his throat nervously, unable to look away. "'S-sides, I'm the crazy one who just didn't head back when the rain started gettin' crazy or just opt to stay at the hotel 'cause of Ivan. Oh man, he probably checked weather! I mean, that's probably why he decided to just hang out at the hotel instead of comin' along. Though maybe he knew… Bastard probably did! 'Cause he was here yesterday so they coul-"

Arthur, thankfully, covered his mouth. Ceasing the nervous rambling. However, it allowed for an awkward silence to settle over them.

Arthur's hand shifted, trailing against Alfred's cheek before brushing still damp bangs out of his eyes. Before those same fingers trailed through the American's equally damp hair. Alfred felt his heart suddenly lodge itself in his throat, unable to look away from Arthur's eyes. They were entrancing, drawing him in. Deeper and deeper. And Alfred realized belatedly that was because they were both moving closer, leaning in to one another's faces. Soon he could feel the others breath against his lips. Another inch and…

And Arthur had pulled away suddenly, his face beet red. The trance was broken, Alfred looking away, holding the almost forgotten blanket closer around himself. The stage-manager coughed, keeping his gaze on anything but Alfred. The awkward silence settled over them again, though this time he was sure it had doubled in size.

Had that really almost happened? Had they almost… Did that mean…?

"Arthur, I um…" Need to say something. He _had_ to! But there was so much that needed to be said. Should he ask about yesterday? _Hell_, what about just now? Were they…

"I'll, um, call you a cab or something to take you back to your hotel. Don't worry. I'll pay."

"Kickin' me out?" An amused grin formed. "Seriously, it won't be the end of the world if I see a _little_ bit of the performance."

To that he was met with the scowl h e had predicted. "Yes, but I'd much rather you see the play in its entirety, when we've perfecting it. Now when we're fumbling about!"

"Arthur, please?" He held his hands in front of him as if in prayer, jutting his lower lip out in a pout and leaning forward. Skillfully and successfully invading Arthur's personal bubble. The Brit flushed, though his scowl remained firmly set. Alfred however did not stop, continuing to give Arthur the puppy look. The other blond looked away promptly, but Alfred scuttled to Arthur's new vantage point. It continued back and forth, before Arthur released an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands up. "No Alfred! You cannot-"

"Artie, you aren't going to kick out our honorary-member, are you?" Julius Vargas's booming voice echoed around them. Alfred jumped as a result, while Arthur rolled his eyes. Turning to face on of the wings where soon Alfred caught sight of the troupes leader standing on the stage, peeking through the wing at them. If possible, Arthur's scowl deepened at the intrusion.

"One, don't call me that. Two, he can't stay!"

"Sure he can!" Julius strolled backstage to join them, wrapping an arm around Alfred. "He'll sit with me!"

"But we-"

"It would be good to get an audiences perspective!" And like that, Arthur was overruled.

Soon afterwards Alfred found himself sitting in one of the plump theatre seats, Julius standing beside him.

On stage they were still preparing. Lovino and Arthur both were barking out orders to the frazzled crew and cast. But things were calming down.

"Don't let the Lion bother you."

"He didn't." Alfred leaned back, drawing the clanked closer around himself. The hot coco mug rested against one knee, half drained. And Lily had been right. It was the most delicious cup of coco he had ever had. "I wasn't planning on leaving. I just don't get why he's so set on not letting me see any of the actual play. Hell! He won't even let me see any of the backdrops or finished set pieces! Even if I _helped_ build or paint 'em!"

"Yeah, he's like that." The Empire's leader laughed that same booming laugh that seemed able to catch anyone's attention. In fact, the troupe hardly seemed to notice the echoing noise. Continuing to go about their business onstage. "Don't mind him though; Arthur loves the idea of creating a magical world through the stage. He doesn't want anyone outside of the troupe to see the play in progress. Not until that world has been born."

A fond smile had formed across the older man's lips as he watched the stage. "I still remember back when I first took him to see a play. It was _Peter Pan_; he was only about ten at the time. And really, the kid was so cynical; I thought any of that child inside him was gone. I figured he'd just scowl throughout the entire production. That he'd wish for Tinker Bell's death!" The smile spread. "But when I looked over to him during the play…"

A softer chuckle this time, and their was a loving twinkle in the mans eyes. Like the twinkle parents got when talking about their children. "His eyes were so big, and there was this innocence I'd never seen. He'd become a little boy again. The little guy was entranced by the play. And when it had finally ended, he just blinked owlishly. Staring at the stage for the longest time before looking at me. 'Can I do that one day?' I asked him what he meant, he just pointed to the stage. 'Can I make magic?'."

Alfred couldn't help but feel he had just heard something very intimate about the grumpy Brit. Maybe something Arthur didn't want people knowing. And yet, he couldn't help but listen eagerly to the man as he continued to speak.

"I swear that was the first time I ever saw the kid smile. And after that I started bringing him along to practices. Each time he entered the theatre, he was always so wide eyed; he always got the biggest smile on his face when someone would offer to teach him something. He would become an innocent little boy again. It was always one adventure after the next."

"He always been a backstage guy?"

Mr. Vargas hummed, a tiny frown tugging at the smile. "No… He use to want to do everything. And he was a good actor." Alfred could believe that. He'd seen Arthur recite lines with precision when he thought no one was around. "He's quick at memorizing lines, and he retains them. I'm pretty damn sure he could still remember every single line from when we did _A Midsummer's Night Dream_ three years ago." And then came a tired sigh. "But he has horrible stage-fright. When he would get onstage in front of an audience, he'd freeze. Forget everything. First time it happened he couldn't even move."

The smile however returned. "I don't think he minds though. He'd always found backstage far more interesting."

"Why?"

"Well, how would the show go on if you didn't have the people working behind the scenes?" Alfred fell silent. The smile shifted to one of amusement, promptly rising to his feet and calling for order. "Alright folks! Today is the day you dreaded. One of my infamous impromptu full rehearsals. So, we're just going to go through the show. Actors, keep your scripts in your pockets, I want to see how much you've all got down. And my lovely stage crew, listen to Arthur, he has rough cues. So just do as many transitions as you can! I want to see how far we can get become I need to stop you! Oh! And Artie-"

"One, don't call me that. Two, I know, I know." He was sure Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do what I always do."

"Exactly! Alright folks. Let's get started!"

They didn't last five minutes before Mr. Vargas called the practice to a halt. But only to request one of the actors to speak up. Things though did not go smoothly. Alfred felt like he was watching a train wreck. In slow motion.

"They get better." Mr. Vargas assured him. "By act two they'll be off their scripts and flowing smoothly."

"How d'you know?"

"Because backstage Arthur's lecturing them all." He could feel the man's eyes on him, and when he looked that amused smile was back. "He'll make sure they at least get off their scripts for you."

"For me..?"

"He wants to impress you." Mr. Vargas shrugged, before calling rehearsals to a halt. "Louder Lils! I can't hear you!"

Lily blushed onstage, hiding behind Søren.

"Why would he…" The American trailed off, feeling his face heat up. Damn it, he really needed to talk to Arthur. Not knowing for sure was driving him mad.

It seemed to amuse Mr. Vargas though; the man was chuckling, leaning back in his seat. Alfred wished there was a rock he could crawl under and die. "You two have fun yesterday?"

"Ye-yeah. Went to The Globe."

"Ah! You see Emma and her brother?" Alfred thought for a minute, before nodding. Mr. Vargas laughed. "I miss those two. Both used to be members of the troupe, but they got those jobs. And I could hardly tell them not to work at The Globe!"

"She seemed nice. Emma I mean."

"Mmhmm, real sweet heart." He grinned. "Lovino use to have the biggest crush on her."

For some reason he couldn't see that. "Arthur and her seemed to be good friends."

"Yeah. They lived in the same house before her Uncle became her and her brother's legal guardian."

Alfred blinked. "Huh?"

"That was… About a year before I met him. Apparently she was the only one that could keep him from getting into trouble."

"Wait… Wa-Wait! What d'you mean?"

Mr. Vargas blinked, before shrugging. "Well… Arthur use to live with the two."

"You mean like-"

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" The voice was so low, like a knife really. Alfred felt himself freeze, and if he wasn't mistaken the troupe had too. Mr. Vargas remained the only one unaffected by the frost that seemed to radiate off Arthur.

Slowly Alfred turned his head to look back at Arthur, blue eyes wide, averting quickly. He couldn't even look at Arthur's face. Suddenly feeling like he had betrayed the Brit's trust. The stage-manager was shaking, hands holding onto the clip board so tightly his knuckles were white. "Who the bleeding Hell gave you the fucking right to spout shit about my life!"

"Aaaw, don't be like that! I didn't do anything." Mr. Vargas was suddenly like a child, looking up at Arthur. And Alfred had to wonder how he didn't turn to stone. Arthur looked ready to break his clip board in half, over Mr. Vargas's head.

"My life is not a story you can tell others about." Arthur's voice was surprisingly level. The knife edge remained however.

"I wasn't telling a story." Mr. Vargas pointed out. "We were having a conversation."

"About my life!"

"About how you knew Emma." The troupe leader clarified. "Alfred was curious."

The American cringed, and suddenly Arthur had rounded on him. "What?"

The single word was like a gunshot. Alfred felt tongue tied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I just… We were just talking and stuff. About why you didn't want me seein' anything before it was done and how Mr. Vargas took you to see _Peter Pan_ when you were little-"

"You told him _what_!" Arthur's face flushed slightly, throwing his clip board at the Italian, who caught it with ease.

"Like I said, we were having a conversation and Emma came up." The troupe leaders' smile was carefree, but Alfred could see a seriousness seeping into his eyes. "Arthur, there's no need-"

"Finish the cues your fucking self!" Alfred was afraid to move, watching as Arthur stormed out of the theatre, slamming the front door shut so hard he swore the building shook.

"Think that's a record." Søren shouted. "Normally it takes two rehearsals for you to make him storm off!"

There were murmurs amongst the troupe. And he swore he saw Yong Soo collecting money from a few actors. Feliciano meanwhile had rushed out from the backstage area, eyes wide.

"Wh-What happened! Why did _fratello _get so angry?"

"Idiot!" Lovino snapped, following after his brother. "Gramps, what did you do!"

"Why am I always the bad guy!"

"Because you're the one who pisses him off?" Lovino suggested, planting his good hand on his hip. "Now _what _did you do?"

"Nothing! We were just talking!"

"About?"

"Sounded like Art's past and shit. Emma came up." Søren chimed in, handing Yong Soo a few pounds.

Lovino blushed slightly at the mention of the female, before his scowl deepened. "Gramps!"

There was more yelling, but Alfred hardly paid attention to it. His eyes remained locked on the door, as if waiting for Arthur to come back.

But he never did.

* * *

"Don't worry; he probably just went back to his apartment aru." Yao smiled at him when he had snuck backstage again to grab his clothes. They were still wet, but he would feel bad stealing Søren's clothing any longer. Alfred nodded simply, pulling the damp t-shirt over his head, shivering at the sudden chill. The Chinese man smiled simply at him, patting Alfred on the back. "Don't worry. This happens once every show aru."

"Really?" He really doubted that. After all, how often was it that Mr. Vargas spoke about Arthur's past after all to an all-but stranger?

"Well… More or less aru." Yao chuckled, taking Søren's spare clothes from the pile that Alfred had dropped them in. "These surprise rehearsals always stress him out, more so then usual aru. So he's already on edge. Julius always ends up saying something that makes him storm out aru."

"Uh-huh." A hand rested on his shoulder this time. He turned his head to look at Yao, the older man smiling softly at him.

"It wasn't your fault Alfred, aru."

He just nodded, mumbling a simple goodbye and heading towards the backdoor.

"Alfred!" He turned his head, just in time to see Kiku hurrying towards them, an umbrella in hand. The Japanese techi came to a halt in front of the American, holding the umbrella out towards him. "Here It is still raining outside."

"Ah, but isn't this yours?" He blinked, looking at the umbrella and catching sight of cutely draw animals on it. Kiku smiled sheepishly.

"Yes it is. But I can easily walk under Yao or Yong Soo's umbrellas today. You will need it more then I will." Alfred grinned gratefully, taking the umbrella.

"Thanks man. I owe you one. I'll bring it back tomorrow alright?"

"So you'll be coming back aru?" Yao cocked his head to the side, though a smile remained. "And here I thought Arthur would have scared you off for a day or so again aru."

To that Alfred snorted, though the nervousness tightened in his gut. Instead of answering, he waved good bye to the two, opening the brightly decorated umbrella once he had gotten outside. It really didn't do much. The rain had gotten heavier, and the wind stronger. But it was the thought that counted, and Alfred did appreciate at least a little bit of shelter.

Still though, it was going to be a long walk back to the hotel. He should've texted Mattie and asked him to make some hot coco before he left the theatre. There was no way he was risking breaking his phone in this storm. He would just have to demand it the second he got into the hotel. When he got back to the hotel. Either way, it was still going to be a long trip. And the rain was making it so much more harder to see.

A hand suddenly grabbed him by the back of his shirt, abruptly pulling him back. Alfred squawked in surprise, nearly dropping the umbrella. Blue eyes went wide as a pair of headlights signaled the car that sped past. The car that would have no doubt hit him. He turned his head, squinting past the rain to stare at his rescuer.

A pair of poisonous green eyes stared back.

"You are such a moron. Have I told you that today?"

"I'm not a moron!"

"Says the one who almost got hit by a car."

"Shut up!" Alfred snapped, glaring daggers back at Arthur. The stage manager just snorted, pivoting slightly away from the American. And it was in that action; he couldn't help but feel his gaze soften. Arthur looked absolutely miserable. His arms were wrapped around himself, his thin frame shivering to the point where Alfred really wished he had remembered to grab his jacket so that he could give it to him. The generally messy blond hair was straight, sticking to his face, much like his clothing. Even his glare, upon second glance, didn't hold much bite. "You should go back to the theatre… Everyone's worried."

That was a half-truth. Feliciano had been incredibly worried, peeking out the door every five minutes for Arthur. Lily had joined him when she had finished her scenes with a dark haired Chinese boy that had come in with Yao today. Other troupe members whispered anxiously to each other, eyes always drifting to the back of the theatre where Arthur had made his grand exit. The only ones who did not seem all that concerned were the rest of the stage-crew along with the people Alfred had learned were the veteran actors. Though even they shot the occasional worried glances towards the door.

"No thanks," Arthur bit out, and Alfred could hear his teeth chattering. Without another word he closed the distance between them, holding the umbrella over Arthur. "Wh-What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!"

"Keeping you from getting pneumonia."

"I'm already drenched git…"

"Yeah, but this way you can't get any wetter!" He heard Arthur snort, muttering something under his breath. But he didn't try to walk away. That was good at least. They stood that way for a long moment, shivering against the howling wind; and if Alfred wasn't mistaken Arthur had definitely slid closer to him. Probably for body heat, not that he had much to offer.

"What're you doing out here still?" He finally asked looking away as the green eyes glanced up at him. "Yao said you had probably gone home…"

"I was going too," Arthur mumbled, rubbing his hands over his upper arms. "But… I just kept walking around the block. Couldn't seem to get my feet to leave the area."

"Arthur, hey you know I didn't-"

"I know, I know," the Brit waved a dismissive hand, heaving a heavy sigh. "Julius just… He likes to talk. And he doesn't always think. Feli gets that from him. And I have the habit of easily losing my temper."

Well, it seemed like a couple walks around the block had calmed Arthur down. Alfred could even see the stage-managers shoulders slumping.

"I am not apologizing," the shorter teen almost snapped, Alfred snorting as a response. "I'm not! I shouldn't have to apologize!"

"Apologize to Feli in the least," Alfred responded, receiving a perplexed look in response. "He was really worried. Lovino had to nearly restrain him physically to keep him from looking for you."

"… That air head. He knows I'll always come back…" A heavy sigh punctuated the sentence, Arthur dragging a hand through his wet hair, almost slicking it back. "Damn… I'll have to I guess. Ah, but then he'll want me to apologize to the old man and no way in Hell I'm doing that!"

"Y'know, the story wasn't that bad." Alfred almost flinched at the glare. "I mean it! He told me about when he took you to see some show and… Well, it was cute."

Did Arthur just blush?

"Yes well…" He shifted, almost uneasily, green eyes looking anywhere but at Alfred. "You still…He shouldn't have…"

"But he did. And honestly, there wasn't anything bad." Arthur stiffened, Alfred continuing on still. "I mean… You make it seem like your some axe murderer."

There it was, a small laugh hidden beneath the rain. It renewed his own smile, and his confidence. "I don't expect you to tell me anything Arthur. I really don't. But maybe… Just know if you ever want too…"

The Brit was looking down. And Alfred took the risk, reaching out and taking Arthur's hand in his own. The other didn't pull away. "I… I don't like talking about my own past either so…"

A heavy silence fell between them, only broken by the heavy rain and howling wind. Licking his lips, Alfred shifted from foot to foot, glancing at Arthur. The other was looking at the ground, holding onto Alfred's hand, the other wrapped lightly around his torso. He was still shivering, blonde hair plastered to his head, strands clinging to his face. Arthur's expression was still very drawn, exhausted even. Never before did Alfred want to pull the grumpy Brit into a bear hug. But at this point in time, he had a feeling that would not be appreciated. It already felt like he was walking on egg shells. Even if Arthur looked like a wet cat, he was still a wet cat who was ready to break out his claws.

Or then again… Perhaps wet lion would be a much better term.

"C'mon, let's get out of the rain for a bit." He didn't wait for an answer, taking Arthur by the hand and all but dragging him down the street. Though, he was wary enough to make sure that Arthur remained under the barely helpful shelter of Kiku's colorful umbrella. As expected there was a bit of a struggle, but it only seemed half-hearted, Arthur soon giving up and just following Alfred. He really was just done, the American realized. "I'll walk you back to your house if you want?"

"And let you get horribly lost? I think not." Arthur snorted, now walking besides Alfred his shoulders still slumped. "I should… I should go back to the theatre shouldn't I?"

"Not if you don't want too." After what had happened, it was probably best Arthur just took a break from the theatre for the rest of the day. He looked exhausted anyway. Was he sleeping properly?

"I don't want too," Arthur began, a sigh punctuating the words. "But I should. People are worried, huh? The newer members aren't use to those arguments… Hell, some of the older ones still aren't…"

"Everyone did seem worried." Alfred had to concede. "Even the veteran people like Søren…"

"So I should go back." Arthur seemed to decide, and he had a feeling the shorter man would have turned on his heel to walk back to the theatre at that moment, had he not still be holding the Brit's hand.

He felt his cheeks warm at that sudden realization. How long had he been holding the other's hand? And why was Arthur even letting him?

And that also brought about the questions from earlier. But was now really the right time to ask them?

"I'll walk you back to your hotel though, unless you feel like watching us rehearse some more?"

"Ahaha… Not really… But hey, let me walk you back. I mean the theatre's closer to where my hotel is!" Again he didn't let Arthur have a chance to speak before he took action, turning around and heading back in the direction of the theatre. He was sure he saw Arthur roll his eyes, and even with the howling wind, he heard the stage manager mumble something. But he didn't argue, and that was good. Alfred really wasn't up for anymore bickering.

Then again, Arthur definitely wasn't up for anymore yelling.

The rest of the shivering walk was done in silence. Alfred could barely see as time went on, his glasses dappled with rain water. Somehow though he managed to find the theatre, Arthur and he standing under the awning. Teeth chattering and bodies numb. "Co-Come inside at le-least f-for a bi-bit."

"Na-Nah." Because if he went inside, he wouldn't want to leave. Arthur scowled in response, looking at the American. Alfred just grinned more, reaching out and ruffling the shorter ones wet hair. "Be bac-back tomo-tomorrow."

"Promise?" Arthur was glancing away now. Alfred couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the reaction. That caused Arthur to just glare slightly, though there was no venom to it.

"Promise." He even held out his pinky for Arthur, but the Brit simply rolled his eyes, thumping Alfred's shoulder with a weak fist. There was that tiny smile again, and it made Alfred feel suddenly warm. Inwardly, he debated what to do, before finally deciding to just risk it all.

Before he could chicken out, he kissed Arthur's cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He managed to choke out. Suddenly wondering if he'd done the right thing. After all, what if it was just some odd European-y thing to kiss people on the cheek? Francis did it all the time! But then again that was Francis and he could just be overly affectionate. Still though. What if it _was_ just some custom? What if Arthur had just wanted to be nice, what if that was why he paid for everything the other day? And earlier, what if Alfred had just misread the atmosphere? What if they hadn't been about to kiss? What if he had misunderstood the whole situation!

His stomach twisted. Oh God, he had ruined things hadn't he? He had misunderstood Arthur's intentions and-

The ramblings came to an abrupt halt. A feather-like kiss placed against his lips. Alfred blinked dumbly for a moment, looking at Arthur who had glanced away, cheeks flushed.

Had Arthur just…?

"Tomorrow then." The Brit cleared his throat, emerald eyes glancing up. "Perhaps… We could get something to eat afterwards too… Like a… Well…"

"Date?" Alfred was grinning. And suddenly any chill from the freezing rain was forgotten. Arthur turned bright red, ducking his head bashfully.

"Yes…"

"I'd like that a lot." Alfred grinned widened, and he had to do everything within his power not to just pull Arthur into a bear hug and kiss him.

Especially when he saw the tiniest smiles on his face. "Tomorrow then."

Alfred couldn't stop grinning as he made his way back to the hotel. The rain hardly bothering him at all.

(-)(-)(-)

**It feels… So nice to finally finish this chapter –dies-**

**This chapter was… Incredibly difficult. The ending changed numerous times. So much I was going and really wanted to just end it after Arthur stormed out XD; Buuut that would've been far too abrupt.**

**Not much else to say really. OH! Wait. This was an idea given to me by a reviewer on Would anyone be interested in seeing little one shots involving Russia/China (Megan you aren't allowed to vote), Canada/Ukraine, or just the other random characters? –has grown to love this little verse- **

**If you guys would, I'll defiantly start writing some~**

**Alright, I really donno whatelse to say. I am tired. And still have homework to finish **

**OH! There was one more thing. I admittedly got this idea from liete on the USUK comm (if you have yet to read any of her amazing fics, go remedy that right now please!). The idea? A formspring account to answer any questions you might have (since I fail at replying to comments), or just anything about any of the fics I have up. It's probably silly to assume anyone would WANT to ask me any questions but... Eh? XD;  
**

**http : / / www . formspring . me / Faeriesnook**

.me/Faeriesnoo


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** On London's Stage

**Author:** Faeriesnook**  
Rating:** PG

**Summary:** AU: Getting lost while on a tour of London was not something that Alfred had planned. Neither was stumbling into a theatre and coming across a paint-splattered Brit reciting _Hamlet_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. I also do not own _Hamlet._

* * *

The first conscious thought he had when waking was his head was killing him. It was like a jack hammer had been taken to it. And really, that made Alfred just want to curl up and die, or go back to sleep. The second option seemed more likely. Actually, the second option seemed incredibly welcoming. He was so comfortable, wrapped up in the comforter of his bed. Head cushioned by the plump cushions. The lights were dimmed too, only a little sunlight drifting in from behind the curtains. Oh yes, the perfect atmosphere to just sleep the day away. It was so welcoming. In fact, he decided, that's exactly what Alfred was going to do. Maybe after another hour his throat would stop aching. Then he could just text Arthur and-

Arthur! Blue eyes snapped back open. No! No! He couldn't just stay in bed. He and Arthur, they had a date! He had to at least call him, he had to-

He had been about to sit up, about to throw the covers off his body, when he suddenly became very aware that one of his hands was trapped. Trapped in someone else's hand…

Arthur… What was Arthur doing here? Why was he sound asleep in a chair by his bed, head cushioned by his arms on the mattress, those slender hands holding onto one of Alfred's? The American could only blink, confused and somewhat dazed. Maybe he was sleeping still? But he was pretty sure he was awake. A pinch later confirmed that yes, yes he was awake. And Arthur was sound asleep by his bed, a blanket pulled over the stage-manager.

Okay, he was definitely missing something.

Still, it was kind of nice. He had almost forgotten how cute Arthur looked when he slept. With a small grin, he reached out with his free hand, brushing blond hair out of Arthur's closed eyes. The result was expected. Arthur mumbled something unintelligible, before nuzzling his arm as if he was burrowing to get away. It made the American chuckle, well almost. Laughing made his throat and head ache…

"You awake?" The soft voice caught his attention. Lifting his head he blinked blearily towards the doorway. Matthew was there, he could just make out his brother. And in a blink, his twin was on the other side of his bed. And up close, even though he was still blurred, Alfred could see a look of pure relief. "Thank God! Al never do that again!"

"Do… Do what?" He croaked, wincing and moving his free hand to rub his aching throat.

Matthew gave an almost exasperated sigh, and then walked away. Alfred was about to shout out for him to come back, but he had already returned. A glass of what he was sure was water in his hand. Carefully (and with a lot of help from the Canadian) he sat up without waking Arthur, accepting the glass and nearly downing it in one go. It made his throat feel better, like it wasn't on fire. More like the embers of said fire were slowly dying. When he handed the glass back, he frowned repeating his question. This time he got an answer, along with his glasses. "You've been sick for the past three days. We almost thought we were going to have to take you to one of the hospitals last night, but your fever finally broke. You've been really out of it bro. Eh, at least when you were awake."  
"What is… What's Arthur doin' here?" He winced, his voice was so hoarse. Even with the water, he could only whisper. And even that took effort.

To this, the other shrugged sitting down on the other side of the bed. "Ivan brought him here this morning after he went to the theatre. He fell asleep around lunch time I think…"

"Lunch… What time is it _now_!"

"Around dinner time." Alfred stared at his brother, who could only smile sheepishly. "He's been here practically all day."

Alfred fell quiet again. He could only just stare down at the seemingly oblivious, slumbering Brit. It reminded him of that day at the theatre so long ago, when Alfred had come and found the stage manager sound asleep. Just like that day Arthur's face was so peaceful. The lines of stress and worry that generally marred the blond's features were smoothed out. His head pillowed in his arms on the mattress. Smiling gently the American reached out, brushing choppy bangs out of Arthur's shut eyes. The other shifted as a result, swatting at Alfred's hand before nuzzling deeper into his folded arms. He chuckled at that, trailing his fingers through the short locks, it was adorable. Arthur could seriously be adorable sometimes, not that he would ever admit that out loud. He'd probably leave the encounter with a black eye.

"I'll go tell the others your awake." His brothers soft voice made him jump, his hand retracting from Arthur's soft hair as if he'd been burned. Matthew smiled at Alfred, an amused look on his face. In return he could feel his face burn, the comforter suddenly incredibly interesting. He listened to the soft chuckle from his twin, before the soft footsteps and then the shutting of the bedroom door.

Blue eyes drifted across the blanket and back to the slumbering Brit. His face was warm, both from his fever and the blush that was growing across his face. Hesitantly he reached out again, once again running his fingers through the others hair. The smile grew again as he shifted in the bed, leaning forward to press a kiss against the top of Arthur's hair. The other gave a soft murmur, shifting positions. It was like a little kid almost, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself, just imagining what Arthur would say if Alfred ever gave these thoughts a voice. He would probably blush, flustered and then yell at him, calling him an idiot and possibly a few bruises.

"Al…" The sleepy voice caught him off-guard. Blinking Alfred looked at the stage-managers face. There was a tiny smile on the Brit's face. It was so soft and quiet, like a rare little secret that only a few could see. It made Alfred's own smile grow larger. The large eyebrows scrunched together, Arthur's eyes squeezing shut before slowly his eyes opened. He grinned more, gazing down at those sleepy eyes. For a moment they seemed to look past Alfred, as if not registering where he was. The sleepiness vanished within a minute though, Arthur sitting upright and nearly hitting his head against Alfred's own. "Alfred!"

"'s my name." He grinned more, laughing a bit at the incredulous look that had overtaken the Brit's face. Then before he expected it the stage-manager had pulled Alfred into a hug, a choked 'thank God' echoing by his ear. The American as a result blinked once, then twice, before hesitantly hugging him back. "Um… You okay?"

Arthur pulled away at that, a bright blush on his cheeks. "Of course! I'm not the one who was delusional!"

To that Alfred blinked. Damn, how out of it had he been?

"Honestly…" Arthur replied, an irritated look crossing his otherwise relief face. "I thought you were mad at me until Ivan told me you were sick… You could have called me or something!"

"In my defense," Alfred spoke up anticipating a slap to the back of his head. Ducking and moving out of Arthur's reach, his grin became sheepish. "I didn't even know it'd been three days since we saw each other. At least until I woke up."

He paused for a moment, taking in the still irritated gaze. "… Wait, you thought I was mad at you..?"

The blush grew again. Arthur's gaze slipped away, the wall suddenly catching his attention. "… N-No…"

A sly smile formed across Alfred's lips. He reached out to poke the others cheek. "Hey… If I had realized it I would've called you."

If anything Arthur cheeks heated further, hitting Alfred's poking finger irritably. "How're you feeling?"

He cocked his head to the side, taking in how he felt. His throat ached, almost scratchy. And there was a dull throb in his head, like a headache that wasn't going away anytime soon. His nose was stuffed, he couldn't breathe through it. His limbs ached, his entire body felt like he was on fire still. In all seriousness he felt like complete shit. At least he had, but Arthur's worry and adorable brush… Well, it made him if anything, feel a bit better.

"I'm alright…" He shrugged. "Just… Dazed? I donno…"

"Lay back down." It was almost an order, Arthur placing his hands on either of Alfred's shoulders and carefully pushing him back against the pillows. Weakly he tried to push the hands away but Arthur's hands remained firmly placed against his shoulders until he seemed settled that the American would not be trying to get up again. Then he pressed a hand against his forehead, and he could see the worried lines forming on Arthur's face again. He couldn't help but feel guilty to know he was the cause of this worry…

"Arthur I'm-"

"Your fevers gone down, but it's still pretty high…" Before he could say another word Arthur was on his feet, walking into the attached bathroom. Then he was back again, a damp washcloth in his hand. Slightly dazed blue eyes continued to follow as he sat down on the bed, and then a shiver ran down his spine as the cloth was placed against his forehead. A small groan escaped him before he could fight it, his eyes slipping shut for a moment. "There, that should help…"

"Mattie said… You been here since the morning?" Arthur nodded, glancing away a bit in embarrassment. "Worried?"  
"'Course I was!" Alfred shrunk back slightly to the reaction. The Brit flushed slightly, looking away when his eyes briefly met his own. "I thought that maybe I had… I mean, when we last saw each other. Maybe I had…"

What was he? Oh no… No! Arthur hadn't thought? Alfred's eyes widened. He seriously didn't think that Alfred had avoided him? Had he? And still Arthur was looking down, picking at a loose thread in the blanket. "I just… You didn't show up and I tried calling you but you didn't pick up so… I thought that maybe you were mad at me… I-If I crossed a line… When I you know…" If Arthur's face could get any redder, Alfred was positive he would pass out from blood loss. "Then just, then Ivan came today and said you were sick… I well…"

"He demanded for Vanya to bring him here to see for himself." He turned his head, gaze landing on a bemused looking Katyusha. To his side Arthur snorted.

"And you made me lay down the moment you saw I had a small fever." And that comment, as off-handed as it was, made Alfred snap his head around to the Brit.

"Fever!" Arthur was sick? A panic gripped his chest. Even if it was tiny, knowing Arthur he would continue to push himself until he could barely function, until he would collapse like that day weeks ago in the theatre. However, his outburst was met with a simple chuckle from them both, Arthur readjusting the cloth against his forehead.

"I'm alright now." The Brit responded simply, reaching out and taking one of Alfred's hands with his. Albeit a bit shyly.

"It wasn't a very bad fever." Katyusha remarked crossing the room to the other side of Alfred's bed. He blinked dazedly as the cool cloth left his forehead, followed by the Ukrainian woman's soft hand against his forehead, before his cheeks, then the back of his neck. "Yours seems to be going down quickly now that it's finally broken. Thank goodness."

"You been takin' care of me this entire time Katyusha..?" She flushed bashfully, nodding her head. Alfred grinned. "Thanks a lot…"

"It was no problem." She giggled, leaning forward to plant an affectionate kiss against his damp forehead. "I will see if between Francis and I we can make you some soup. Ah, I will make you some as well Arthur."

Arthur nodded at that, murmuring a soft 'thank you'. Together they watched as the woman left, Alfred becoming incredibly aware of the thumb stroking the back of his hand. Hesitantly Alfred allowed his gaze to trail back, resting on the other blonde. He was looking away again, despite the thumb that continued stroking the back of his hand. It was a simple action, and yet at the same time so shy and hesitant. Alfred though couldn't let the nagging thoughts to fade.

"You're alright, right?"

"I'm fine. My fever was only a tiny one…"

"… Not fair." Alfred grumbled earning him a confused look. "You were out in the rain for way longer then me and I was the one who got seriously sick!"

Arthur snorted again, using his free hand to flick Alfred's forehead. "Yes. But you also came to the theatre in that storm, hung around in wet clothing, then put the wet clothing back on and went back into the storm." Alfred was about to protest more, but Arthur cut him off. "Plus, I'm used to pushing myself till near exhaustion. It's helped me build up a strong immune system."

He muttered about how that was so unfair and made no sense, to which Arthur just laughed. A silence fell over them again, broken only by Alfred's coughs. Generally Alfred would try to break the silence by rambling on about something, but he just couldn't find the energy. His eyelids were drooping, and for a brief moment he wanted to do nothing more than sleep. Actually, that seemed like an incredibly good idea. Distantly he heard the Brit chuckle as Alfred nuzzled into the pillows. With his free hand Arthur pulled the blankets back over his shoulder. It made him smile sleepily, peeking up at the stage manager. "Mm… Arthur?"

"Hmm? Go to sleep Al." He soothed. "You can tell me when you wake up."

"Just… When I feel better," he mumbled, eyes slipping shut. He heard Arthur chuckle again, and then a feather-light kiss brushed against the back of his hand. Even with his eyes closed he could see the hesitant blush that was probably painted across Arthur's face. Smiling to himself he snuggled deeper into the blankets as a shiver ran down his spine. Never once though did he loosen his weak hold on Arthur's hand. "We gotta go on that date…"

There was silence, Alfred wondered if he was heard. But he was so tired… He could always just repeat himself when he woke up.

He could have sworn though, just as he was beginning to sink into the darkness of sleep, a soft kiss was pressed against his cheek. Arthur's soft whisper following it "I'd like that."

* * *

The next time Alfred woke up Arthur was gone, and Matthew was watching a muted hockey game from his own bed. And from the way he was mouthing curses, Alfred figured his team was losing. That made the American snort, earning his brothers attention. Almost immediately his twin turned the television off, practically hoping off his bed and to Alfred's side. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck?" Alfred groaned, his head pounding. Matthew laughed in response, but he saw the relieved smile. "And I'm starving."

"I'll reheat the soup Francis had made for you." He nodded, watching from his lying position as Matthew moved to the refrigerator in their room pulling out a Tupper ware container and then placing it in the microwave. Rubbing his nose he pushed himself into a sitting position. Blue eyes shifted over to where Arthur had been sitting when he had fallen asleep. And Alfred was most certainly not upset that the stage manager was gone now. Most certainly not… Alright maybe a little.

"You're boyfriend had to go home." Alfred's eyes widened, and he felt his cheeks heat. Whipping his head around, and immediately regretting it as his head spun, he shot his now smirking brother a glare.

"H-He isn't my boyfriend!"

"Uh-huh." Matthew crossed his arms over his chest.

"I-I mean… He's um… Ju-Just…" Alfred sighed, flopping back against the pillows. "I don't know what we are…"  
"Go out on a date yet?"

"Sorta? Though I spent the whole date wondering if it was a date…" When he glanced at Matthew, his brother was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and incredulous look. "What?"

"You spent the entire date wondering if it was a date."

"Yes?"

"You are an idiot Al."

"Hey!" He sat back up, though regretted it when the room spun again. The other blond just laughed, carefully taking the soup out of the microwave and handing it to Alfred.

"Be careful not to burn yourself."

"Alright _Mom_," he huffed, before proceeding to do just what Matthew had warned against. The soup stun his tongue, Alfred wincing.

"You burnt yourself didn't you?"

"N-No!" His brother rolled his eyes, but didn't push the matter. Instead he returned his attention back to the hockey match on the television. Alfred was grateful for that, stirring the soup around idly as he waited for it to cool. Unfortunately, his brother only held his tongue for a few minutes.

"So, he's your boyfriend." A small groan escaped him. Setting his bowl aside he opted to hide under the blankets. Yes, if he could hide, Matthew wouldn't see him. That way he couldn't tease him! "Al, c'mon don't be five."

But he refused to come out. His face was burning, and he did not feel like having his brother tease him for it. A sigh sounded, and he felt the bed dip as Matthew settled besides him.

"He seems like a good guy." Risking it, Alfred peeked out. Matthew was still watching the hockey game, leaning against the headboard besides Alfred. After a moment, violet eyes slide to look at him, before Matthew gave him a small smile. "Don't screw up."

A pillow to Matthew's face was Alfred's reply.

**(-)(-)(-)**

**Baaaaw I am so sorry for not updating this sooner! I had this thing… Called a Shakespeare class last semester… And it made me not want to go near anything Shakespeare related for like… Months. This fic sadly included. And then I realized I couldn't write Canada for my life. Which I actually found really weird since up until now I had been able too.**

**So I'm really sorry for taking so long!**

**Aaah this chapter, it's been half written for so long… I'm not sure I still like it XD;; Aaah I hope you all enjoy though? And don't kill me for how long it's taken? I'll try and update sooner, but no promises!**


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